


Dynasty Decapitated

by Talktrash



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Deadpool - Freeform, M/M, Michael Clifford & Calum Hood Friendship, spiderman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:29:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 76,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talktrash/pseuds/Talktrash
Summary: Calum flings himself through the only glass window in their entire apartment, landing three feet from the edge of their bed and sending glass shards flying. Luke jerks straight up and gasps, while Michael presses his face further into the pillow.Calum pants wildly for a second before shouting, "Ashton's missing!"Michael falls back asleep.Or the one where Michael is Deadpool, Calum is Spiderman, Ashton is missing, and Luke is Hemmings





	1. The Kids are, The Kids are Blowing Up the Castle

Michael's honestly minding his own business. He is, he's just sitting on the roof of some bar downtown, swinging his feet over the edge with his Nintendo DS in his hands, when suddenly a bullet comes out of nowhere and fucking rips the entire top screen off. His shoulders slump at the now exposed wires and the half of the shattered device that goes plummeting two stories down, where it shatters even more against the sidewalk. 

“Oh, come on!” he yells, setting the other half aside and standing up abruptly on the edge of the building. “My Mudkip-” he's cut off by a second bullet zipping through the air and stabbing through his chest. It stings a bit, enough to be noticeable, but not enough to actually hurt. Like a bee sting. He glances down at the hole now ripped in his suit and huffs dramatically. “Really? I have to make a new suit every fucking time this happens, you know that, right? Or Luke has to mend this one and he hates-” 

He's cut off again by a shout as three men in black clothing, wielding large guns, drop out of the fourth story of the building next to his bar and fling themselves onto his roof. Michael raises his eyebrows under the suit as they all land. “Black clothes? Big guns? Oh, look at us, we're bad guys! You can tell by how we're still stuck in our emo phase! Did you guys have your moms drive you down here?” 

The middle of the three shoots again, hitting Michael in the bicep. 

“Ow,” he says flippantly. Luke's going to be so pissed when he sees all these holes. “If your mom did drive you, I'd like to see her again! I know I never called, but I'll apologize with my impeccable charm and-” he shoots again, misses completely, and Michael sighs heavily. “Stop shooting at me! If you didn't want to make small talk you should have just said so!” 

He can hear the three of them muttering as they slowly edge closer, crouched down and shuffling forward almost soundlessly. Michael resists the urge to roll his eyes and just rubs his forehead, sighing heavily. “Surrender!” The man in the front yells, aiming the gun directly at Michael's head. “Surrender now and we will not have to kill you!” 

“Kill-” Michael cuts himself off this time and sighs. “You know what, you guys are clearly unprepared and uninformed, so I'll let you off easy. I mean, you have to die, but I'll do it quick so you don't suffer. Wow, I'm a nice guy, you know what,” he unfolds his arms and claps, nodding along when the three merely look at each other. “Good for me. I'm not terrible, good Deadpool.” 

The man in the middle looks ready to respond, so Michael jumps up and forward, spinning through the air while a swarm of bullets rain down on him, just because it'll look cool to anyone passing. Michael's very proud of his gymnastic abilities. He feels the small stinging sensation of bullets entering him all over his body, but it's honestly just routine at this point. He barely even feels it. 

He lands in front of the middle man and grabs the barrel of his gun, jerking it up sharply so he falls back. After a small struggle, Michael manages to rip the weapon away and shoot him in the head. A quick glance between the other two confirms that they're still shooting at him, so Michael simply walks between them and watches as they shoot each other. 

“Classic move,” Michael nods to himself. “All bad guys are stupid enough to shoot each other, happens in every movie.” After dropping the gun, Michael mopes back over to his deceased Nintendo with a devastated look on his face, not that anyone sees it. Not because of the mask, he's just on a roof. Also the mask. 

Michael crouches over half his murdered Nintendo and holds his fist over his heart, furiously blinking back tears. “You- you were a good companion. Always there through thick and thin, good times and bad times. You will always be remembered at your happiest, when I was using you to play Pokémon Sapphire. May you rest in peace, my dear friend. May you rest in peace.” 

There's a soft thud behind him, followed by a gasp of absolute horror that Michael would recognize anywhere. He drops his head down and lets his hand fall from his heart to his knee, letting out a defeated groan. He knows what boredom lies ahead. 

“Michael!” 

Michael stands and spins around on the toes of his shoes, facing the man in the red, white, and blue suit. Michael salutes him, then places his hand back over his heart and starts in on an off key rendition of the National Anthem. 

“What have you done?” Calum gasps, not letting Michael finish his song. Well, America's song, but whatever. Michael briefly considers buying the rights to the National Anthem and replacing it with something more fitting, like Bring Me To Life by Evanescence.

He shakes his head when he remembers he lives in a studio apartment with Luke and doesn't even have a job, then addresses the elephant in the room. The spider on the roof, maybe. “Ah, Spidey, always a pleasure to see you! Mainly your ass, but the rest of you isn't bad! How's your hot boyfriend?” 

Calum ignores him, as usual. He somehow manages to look disappointed under his spiderwebbed mask, but Michael can't find it in him to feel bad. “What did you do, Michael?” 

Michael holds his hands up in surrender, before frantically gesturing to his deceased friend on the dirty top of the roof, next to him. He feels himself tearing up at the mere mention of it, so he adamantly avoids looking down. “They killed Susan! Look at her, they ripped her completely in half!” 

Calum sighs and rubs a hand over his face and Michael finds himself wondering if he's ever done that and shot himself with webs. Knowing Calum, he probably has. “Michael, you can't just-” 

“This was self defence,” Michael says quickly. “They came at me, I did what I could to avoid certain death.” 

“You can't die,” Calum reminds him, sounding completely exasperated. “You're almost indestructible.” 

Michael considers it, but eventually nods in agreement. “I mean, if we want to get into the technical side of things. But I was referring to how Luke would absolutely murder me if I tore my suit again, and look-” he gestures to the bullet holes all over him in absolute disgust. “Look what these savages did to me. Look at this, Luke's going to obliterate me. It's been nice knowin’ ya, pal.” 

Just to be dramatic, and because he knows Calum will catch him, Michael takes two steps back and promptly falls off the building, legs straight and arm held up in salute to Calum, again. 

There's a sticky glob of web stuck to his waist before he even falls one story, abruptly halting his dramatic death leap. Michael glances up to see the string of white webbing and calls up, “Dude, gross, did you just nut? Usually I'm all for that, but you have a hot boyfriend. How is he, by the way? Ready to leave you, yet?” 

Calum sighs in exasperation again and drops the web, watching Michael fall the rest of the way. He smashes onto the sidewalk and feels nothing except a sharp pain in his lower back. Reaching behind him, Michael pulls out the other, shattered half of his DS and gasps. “Susan? 

Calum shoots another web at him, sticking it to his waist again. He flicks his wrist (Michael files that away under “Dirty Jokes To Make When He's Not Flying Through The Air”) and Michael whips back up onto the roof. He flails his arms and manages to cushion his fall with mainly his face, but it's fine, probably. He groans and rolls onto his back, just in time to see Calum walk over, arms crossed over his chest firmly. 

“Your dick looks incredible from this angle,” Michael tells him. Calum doesn't bother hiding himself or even moving away. Michael curses his incredibly high tolerance levels. 

Calum finally uncrosses his arms and holds his hand out. “Come on, get up,” 

“You're not going to get your wrist cum on me again, are you?” Michael asks hesitantly, staring at Calum's outstretched and like it's a foreign object. 

“I'll try not to,” Calum agrees. Michael reaches up and grabs his hand, only to get shot directly in the face with another web. He squawks and rips his hand away while Calum laughs like he's the funniest person in the world. Michael peels the web off and launches it back at Calum forcefully, missing completely. It smushes against the ground with a gross sloshing noise that makes Michael cringe, while Calum attempts to catch his breath. He's bent over, hands on his knees, and still laughing hysterically. 

Michael jumps up and does what must be a pretty sick looking kick (not that he's done it in front of a mirror, not that he'd gotten caught by Luke, not that Luke proceeded to laugh at him for a good Twenty minutes), and lands his foot against Calum's chest. It knocks the air of of his lungs as he flies through the air and off the building completely. Before Michael can even breathe a sigh of relief, a web shoots through the air and sticks to the building next to him. Calum's quick to climb back up and lands in front of Michael, huffing dramatically and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Can we please agree to stop throwing each other off the roof?” He asks. Michael hates that he can tell Calum's scowling under his mask. 

“Alright, fine,” Michael says. Calum pauses, clearly calling his bluff, so Michael reaches forward and shoves him, pushing him off the roof, again. Calum shrieks like it'll hurt him. “Stop it, you're so dramatic,” Michael rolls his eyes while Calum falls off the roof with flailing limbs. He catches himself with the same Web as before around the first story and climbs back up again, standing away from Michael this time. 

“Are you done?” He asks patiently. Michael considers it, but eventually nods, he's getting bored watching Calum catch himself instead of splattering against the ground. All Michael wants is to watch a good, old fashioned murder, honestly. It's so easy now days with weapons and such, Michael never gets to see guts and bone splattered on the pavement. Whatever, Calum probably isn't the best one to kill for his sick games. 

“Anyway,” Calum interrupts before Michael can decide who he should throw off a building. “You can't keep doing this, dude,” Calum gestures to the three dead men on the top of the roof and Michael snaps his fingers.   
“Thanks for reminding me!” He skips his way over and grabs the middle one around the knees and under his back. Michael hefts the man over his shoulder, making sure to flex his thighs in case anyone happens to be looking, and hurries over to the edge of the roof. 

“Michael!” Calum shrieks in absolute horror when he realizes what's happening. Before Calum can stop him, Michael tilts sideways off the edge of the roof and slides the body off his shoulder smoothly. It falls all two stories before abruptly hitting the sidewalk below, Michael's sad to find the man's body simply jolts and shakes. No blood, no broken bones, no splattering. It's all very upsetting. Boring, mainly. 

“N’aw, well,” Michael clicks his tongue and glances around for a taller building. “That was a bust.” 

Before he can do anything else that Calum could possibly deem destructive, there's a small hissing noise (Michael echoes it, purely on instinct because he knows it'll piss off Calum), and suddenly his wrists are stuck to his sides. There's sticky, thin, white webbing gluing his wrists to each of his upper thighs and, after a considering glance from Calum, more sticking his ankles together. 

“You know,” Michael glances down and his hands. “Usually when I have a body part stuck to my thigh, it's not this one.” 

Calum groans and rubs a hand down his face. “Dude, gross.” 

“Come on, now, Calum, darling,” Michael says sweetly, batting his eyelashes. He quickly remembers the mask covering his entire face, but that doesn't stop him from his eyelash fluttering. Calum looks vaguely unimpressed. “I didn't do anything wrong, remember? They came after me, no one really got hurt, if you think about it!” 

Calum gestures wildly to the two bodies still on the ground with a loud scoff. 

Michael waves his hand dismissively, as much as he can with his wrists tied down. “They came onto me! I know I'm usually all for that, but Luke and all. Speaking of my hot boyfriend, how's yours? Because Luke and I are always open to poly-”

“He's fine,” Calum cuts him off abruptly, finally giving in and playing Michael's game. Michael's glad, now he can change his tactic. “You see him like, once a week, he works with Luke.” 

“Luke who? I don't know a Luke.” Michael's eyes zero in on one of the guys slumped on the ground. “Oh my god, okay, don't freak out, but I think that one just moved.” 

Calum crosses his arms, clearly unamused. 

“What? Don't look at me like that, I'm serious!” Michael nods his chin towards the obviously dead body. He stares for a second, but Calum doesn't give in. “No, see, he did it again! Calum, I seriously think he's waking up!” Calum falters, so Michael kicks it up a notch. “Fuck, dude, I'm serious! I don't want you to get hurt, man!” 

Calum instantly gives in at that. He's a slut for any sort of emotional response Michael gives him. While he's distracted with bending down to check the man's pulse, back to the older boy, Michael bends his knees and quickly does a sick ass back flip off the side of the building. He tries to pull his arms out to catch himself, but they're still fucking webbed together, so he slams into the ground face first. It's surprisingly soft.

Michael peels one eye open and notices black fabric stretched across a broad back underneath him. He pats the dead man with his only remaining appendage, his face, and smiles. “Ah, a man's back underneath me. Always a welcome sight.” 

By the time Calum notices he's missing, Michael's already hobbled himself, webbed ankles and all, into the nearest taxi. He takes satisfaction in the loud screech of, “Michael!” that follows him down the street.


	2. I got a secret fan, imagine that my man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from dreamers by awolnation

Calum grabs two plates from the cabinet and slams it shut as angrily as possible. “He's so infuriating!” 

Ashton hums from where he's at the stove, stirring noodles while half listening to Calum. He's got an amused little smile on his face, so Calum doesn't think he's actually paying attention.

“He just killed three people and left them there!” Calum slams the plates on the table as forcefully as he dares. “I had to cover for him, do you know how much paperwork police reports are? Fuck, and if we get caught? Major jail time and I lose all my public interest. It's not like Michael has anything to lose!” 

“Mhm,” Ashton says. 

Calum stalks back over to the cabinets and rips two glasses out. “I mean, I could have just left those guys up there, but their families should know. Does Michael care about their families? No, he only cares about himself!” 

“I'm sure,” Ashton mumbles distantly. 

Calum slams the glasses on the table alongside the plates. “Honestly! And he threw one of them off the roof for no fucking reason! Do you want milk or water? Sometimes I just wish I could see what he's thinking in that tiny twisted brain of his!” 

“Milk,” Ashton replies gently. Calum scowls and stalks over to the fridge to pull out the milk.

“He keeps asking about you, too,” Calum pours the milk carefully, but somehow still angrily. He fills both glasses up while continuing. “He thinks you're going to leave me for him and Luke.” Ashton hums distantly again, so Calum glances over at him. “You wouldn't, would you?” 

“What?” Ashton flicks the stove off without turning around. 

“Leave me for Luke and Michael,” Calum throws the door to the fridge open and throws the milk back inside. 

Ashton considers it for a second, tilting his head side to side while he continues boiling the noodles over the cooling stove top. Eventually, he shakes his head. “Nah. If I was going to leave you, I'd probably go for someone like Johnny Depp or maybe Emma Stone. I'd like to think my standards are higher than a loser in spandex with the attention span of a gnat.” 

Calum blinks for a second, watching as Ashton turns with the end of the pot in his hand to dump the noodles through the strainer over the sink. When he's finished, he sets the pot back on the stove and glances at Calum. 

“I’m still talking about Michael,” he clarifies.

“I- yeah, thanks. For clearing that up, I- you lost me on the loser in spandex part,” 

Ashton waves his hand dismissively and reaches for the pad of butter. “I mean, yeah, but at least your ass looks nice in the spandex.” He pauses again, before tacking on, “Actually, Michael's-” 

“Stop, don't tell me about his ass,” Calum cuts him off quickly, shaking his head. Michael's ass isn't bad, they're just about to eat. 

Ashton grins at that and holds his arm up, patiently waiting until Calum tucks himself under it. When he does, Ashton reels him in and presses a soft kiss to his temple. “Are you done complaining?” 

“No, but I'll reign it in for now,” Calum reasons. Ashton gives him a short disapproving look, one eyebrow raised curiously, but doesn't mention it any further. Calum twists out of his grip and falls into his chair at their small table, huffing softly. 

Ashton rolls his eyes as he grabs the pot off the stove again. “Anyway, next conversation piece,” he sits himself in the chair across from Calum, sets the pot down, and snatches the spoon up before Calum can reach for it. “I'm pretty sure our jobs are going to overlap at some point, so, there's that.” 

“What, am I going to take pictures of you looking through a microscope?” He watches Ashton scoop the noodles as slowly as physically possible, sighing in exasperation before tacking on, “Or is the headline going to be “Man Wins World Record For Scooping Pasta Slowly and Making His Perfect Boyfriend Wait Three Years to Eat.”” 

Ashton shoots him a look at the melodramatics, but it quickly turns into an amused smile that Calum copies on instinct. “Yes, Calum, I won an award for being slow,” he hands the spoon over. “Sadly, we can't all have superhuman speed. Spider-Bitch.”

“Hey!” Calum cries indignantly. “You can't call me names because you're jealous of my super awesome and totally cool abilities! What if I called you-” his mouth forms several words that don't really fit his actually perfect boyfriend (who quirks an eyebrow curiously at Calum's failures, but doesn't interrupt him). Eventually, he nods and says, “Cute bitch. Yeah, what about that?” 

“I'd say thank you, probably,” Ashton shrugs. He picks up his fork and starts eating while Calum watches him fondly. “Anyway, as I was saying. You're kind of the only actual superhero available at the moment, considering the rest of them are all off fighting each other or whatever.” 

He waves his hand dismissively and Calum nods at the mention of the metaphorical civil war all the other supers and agents seem to be constantly battling. Calum doesn't get involved, mainly because he doesn't know anything of them- he's not great at make friends. 

“Yeah, so,” Ashton continues shovelling noodles in his mouth and talking around them as he chews. “There's this old science genius or something trying to create a virus to target people with strong immune systems- I don't know the details, but he's doing it for the German government, I think. I don't know, but I guess they want me to help make to antibody, and they need an agent to dispense it. It's all super shady right now, because no one knows if this guy is actually going to go through with it or- are you listening to me?” 

Calum nods instantly. He's got his elbow leaning on the table, chin in his hands, and watching Ashton with a small smile on his face. He can't help it, the older boy is endearing when he eats, so ineloquent. Calum's totally in love with him. 

“I am, just-” he smiles, but Ashton just levels him with an unimpressed expression. “Was just- you know- admiring your beauty.” 

“Oh, is that so?” Ashton hums and continues eating, continuing to ignore Calum's eyes on him. 

Calum nods with a smile. “T’is so.” Ashton snorts and tells him to eat his dinner, so he does. 

Later that night, Calum's laying in bed with his head between Ashton's legs, gently nipping at his thighs. Ashton squirms and threads a hand through his hair to tug on the short curls. 

“You know,” Calum mumbles whiles pressing his mouth to Ashton's stomach, carefully avoiding his cock. “You fucking- you know what else Michael did-”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Ashton's legs are wrapping around his throat, making him cut off with a choking noise. He claws at Ashton's thighs where they're restricting his breathing and gasps shortly, eyed widening while Ashton fixing him with a glare. Slowly, Ashton sits forward until he can crawl partially on top of Calum, still keeping him in the headlock with his bare thighs. Calum's back is pressed against the bed now, instead of Ashton's. 

“Stop talking about him,” Ashton tells him forcefully. Calum will admit, he does look intimidating with the low light in their bedroom casting ominous shadows over his face, while he looms about Calum with a glare. “I know he pissed you off, but you're focused on me right now.” 

Calum nods and replies with a choking noise. Ashton stays on top of him for a while longer, knees and toes pressed to the mattress with Calum's throat between his thighs. Calum's head drops back and he gasps from lack of oxygen, slapping at Ashton's legs again.

Eventually, Ashton relents and unravels them. He perches on top of Calum's chest, then, sitting on top of him with his legs nestled between Calum's ribs and biceps, knees shoved into his armpits. 

“Fuck,” Calum wheezes while rubbing his red neck. “How did you do that? I literally have superhuman strength.” 

Ashton smiles down at him and leans down until he can press a soft kiss to Calum's cheek. “You would never hurt me. I trust you.” 

“Enough to put me in a choke hold, apparently,” 

Ashton shrugs as he brushes his thumb across Calum's cheekbone. He's leaned in close so their faces are almost touching, but looks hell bent against kissing the younger man under him. “I know you won't throw me across the room, or anything.” 

Calum hums and drops his hand from his throat to Ashton's thigh to rub his thumb across the bare skin there. “I might. I mean- not now, obviously, but I might. Given the chance- I could- I would definitely-” 

He doesn't even get to finish before Ashton's giggling and leaning down. He cups Calum's cheeks and rubs their noses together gently until Calum shuts up and smiles up at him. “You could never.” 

Calum grins and presses up to lock their lips together for a second. “You're right. I couldn't.” Ashton laughs again and pulls him back up for another kiss.


	3. Let’s Cause A Scene (Like Lovers Do)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Indie Rock n Roll by The Killers

Luke crosses his arms over his chest and turns towards the window, nose pushed in the air slightly so Michael understands he's pissed off. Michael, unfortunately, doesn't understand body language (More likely, he doesn't care), and is animatedly singing along to A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton. He's tapping on the steering wheel and singing at the top of his lungs, shaking his shoulders and hips in the driver's seat. 

Luke huffs after a minute or two. He reaches over and rips the aux cord out of the car's radio, abruptly cutting off the music and leaving Michael's screeching in a solo. Michael slumps when he realizes his song's been cut and shuts his mouth. Not that Luke can fucking see it. 

“Are you,” Michael pauses and looks over to Luke in the passenger seat for a second before returning his eyes to the road. “Are you mad at me?” 

Luke turns his glare ask onto his boyfriend, all dolled up in his red and black suit, and readjusts his firm arm crossing. They roll to a stop at a traffic light, so Michael glances over and quickly turns back around when he catches sight of Luke's pissed off expression. 

“Is it the suit-” he asks carefully.

Luke shouts over the end of his statement. “Yes it's the fucking suit!” 

Michael doesn't answer, probably because he knows exactly how to piss Luke off. Luke scowls and turns back to the window. Luke seethes and broods silently while the light turns green again and waits until the next stoplight to speak.

“Take it off,” he demands. 

“Take it- I mean, yeah, I'm gonna, how will I fuck people if I don't, you know?” Michael glances over and wiggles his eyebrows- that much Luke can see because of how snug the red fabric is over his nose. Luke glares at him, so Michael quickly turns back to the road. “Just not right now. I don't like to, you've seen me.” 

“Unfortunately,” Luke mutters, turning his nose up at the window again.

Michael scoffs, but Luke doesn't believe he's actually offended for a single second. “Come on, it'll be fine, Luke. Just- I don't know just don't look at me! I know it'll be hard, but-” 

“Just once,” Luke huffs as he readjusts his arms,which are still crossed over his chest. “Just once I'd like to go out with you and not your fucking-” Luke gestures to his red and black suit wildly, while Michael blinks at him. Eventually, he finishes with, “Your fucking persona!” 

As if on cue, the light in front of them turns green, and a loud thud sounds around their car, which jolts violently. Luke shrieks and grabs onto Michael's bicep on instinct. There's a lump of what appears to be clothes and, probably, a human laying limp across the hood of their car. One hand is outstretched so bloodstained fingers are resting lightly on their windshield, while more of the dark liquid spills down the hood and onto the pavement below.

Michael reaches forward with the arm that isn't in Luke's death grip and flicks the windshield wipers on. Silently, they both watch the black blades slide across the glass and knock the hand off, letting it fall to the hood with a quieter thump. Unfortunately, that use makes blood smear across the lower half of their windshield.

Luke releases Michael's bicep and smacks him upside the head, eliciting a quiet but bitter “Hey!” from him.

“Do something,” Luke gestures frantically to the front of their car.

Michael copies him and gestures to the blood smear. “I did!” The car behind them honks it's horn, so Michael holds up his middle finger and gives Luke a pointed look. 

Luke smacks him again, Michael just allows it happen. 

“Alright, fine,” he sighs heavily and mimes shoving his sleeves up. “I'll take care of it, sweetie, darling, lover boy. I'll be the man of the house and protect y-” A loud bang sounds from next to them and Michael flinches. He turns his head enough so Luke can see the very obvious bullet wound (that Luke is going to have to mend, damn it) ripped through the side of his skull. “Alright, I'll do something. Luke, get my katanas.” 

“They're-” Luke pauses and checks to make sure they're there because, honestly, Michael's not the most organized person in the world. “They're on your back.” 

“What?” Michael lifts his hand up and feels around until his fingers wrap around the handle of the first blade, then the second. He gets shot in the arm and Luke flinches again. “Oh for the love of- see, this isn't my fault! It's not like I'm asking to be shot, you see this, right? And you know I'm just going to go commit murder because I love you and want to protect you, right?” 

Luke gives him a strange look but nods slowly. Michael's never cared about motives before, why should he now? In the back of his mind, Luke suspects Calum. 

“Okay, good! Luke, wait in the car,” Michael grabs Luke's shoulder and shoves him down forcibly, ignoring his loud squawk of protest. Luke relents after a second of confused struggling and crawls down into the leg space of the passenger seat, crouching down and scowling at Michael. Michael pats his head until Luke bites his fingers, then throws the driver's side door pen and starts yelling. 

Luke would be lying if he said this was the first time this happened. Somehow or another, Michael always manages to ruin their dates, whether it be because of his suit or because of his nonsensical need to murder everyone that crosses him without a second thought. While Luke was startled, maybe even amused and slightly aroused I'm the beginning, he's just plain annoyed, now. He's annoyed Michael manages to do this every single time. 

Luke digs around in his jacket pocket until he can pull out his phone to dial the first person in his contacts. Ashton answers on the second ring with a somewhat slurred and grunted, “‘Lo.” Luke simply huffs and puffs on the phone until Ashton carefully asks. “Are you angry?” 

“Yes!” Luke yells, because at least Ashton can tell when he's pissed off. He can practically hear Michael being sarcastic from outside. 

“Why-” Ashton cuts off when he hears several loud bangs in quick succession. “Are those gunshots.” 

“Yes,” Luke repeats in a somewhat calmer tone. 

Ashton pauses for a second. “I'm not going to tell Calum about this.” Luke makes another huffing noise of annoyance, so Ashton hums thoughtfully and says, “Maybe I should?” 

“No, that would just drag this out longer,” Luke decides, shifting around in his crunched up position. The leg space of his chair obviously was not made for a six foot whatever boy in very tight skinny jeans, which are probably cutting off all the circulation in his knees. His feet are going numb. “Honestly, I wish we could just have one normal date. Just one, that's all I'm asking!” 

Ashton sighs, long suffering and heavy, like he's been listening to complaining and whining all day. That's probably true, Luke's met Calum and his one track mind. Either way, he takes the sigh as permission to continue, so he does.

“He does this all the time, honestly, all I wanted to do was watch a damn movie,” Before Luke can bitch about in anymore, the entire car jerks to the left like something has slammed into it, and Luke scrambles. He grabs the edge of the seat in front of him with his free hand while darting his eyes around wildly in search of the red and black suit he expects to see climbing back into the car. 

Instead, a fist flies through the passenger side window, shattering the glass and sending sharp pieces falling down around Luke loudly. Ashton yells at him through the phone, but Luke just shrinks back into the foot space and looks up frantically. For a second, nothing happens, except Luke's heart tries to physically rip it's way out of his chest. 

“Luke?” Ashton tries again. Opening his mouth to respond, Luke notices dark eyes and a face appear in the broken window, staring down at him like Luke's personally offended his mother. 

“Uh, hold on a second,” Luke says softly, as soft as he can over the gun fire outside. The man has a black hat and jacket on, gun strapped to his very obviously muscled back, and tanned skin just a shade darker than Ashton's. He reaches through the window, knocking glass shards out of the way, and grabs Luke's shoulder in a firm grip. Fingers digging into his shoulder blade, Luke squawks as he attempts to smack the man off. 

“Mi-” he manages to get out, before Ashton shrieks about his identity on the other side of the phone. Luke's shoved back into his chair, facing the front again, with a heavy hand shoving his shoulder into the seat. Outside, Michael backflips off a car and slices someone's head clean off their body. Luke rolls his eyes at the dramatics. “Are you fucking kidding me? He's cutting heads off- what is this, an execution?” 

The man snorts in amusement, then catches himself and makes a low growling noise. 

Luke gives him a look, still clutching his phone to his ear. “I can't believe I'm doing this, but,” he sighs, then screeches, “Deadpool!” 

Michael's ducking between cars, so Luke can't see him, but he certainly hear his shouted, “Kinda busy, sweetheart!” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Luke yells back. The guy snorts again, not even trying to hide his grin this time, so Luke jerks his shoulder away and crosses his arms the best he can while still holding the phone to his ear. He glares, snapping his eyes to the man's wedding band on the hand he's holding a knife with, resting on by the side mirror outside of the car. “Do you have a wife? I bet you don't treat her this terribly. Honestly, I'm being held captive in my own damn car and he's “kinda busy”.” Luke uses air quotes, then throws his hand up and gives what little of Michael he can see (the swing of one silver sword over the top of a distant car) a glare. 

“I have a husband,” the man tell him, one eyebrow quirked. Luke almost forgets he's about to be murdered. 

“Oh god,” Luke mumbles, placing his free hand over his heart. “Honestly, if I ever think marrying him is a good idea, I give you permission to kill me in the most brutal way possible. Seriously, he's the worst, I can't imagine being married to him.” 

“Luke,” Ashton sighs in exasperation, like this isn't the way a person should act while being held captive. But, really, Ashton's been cornered in an alley maybe once, and Luke's been kidnapped, cornered, held captive, dozens of times. Michael's awful at keeping his identity, so everyone and their mother always goes after his weak spot- Luke. Little do they know, Michael usually showers, makes dinner, and watches an episode of Desperate Housewives before he goes to rescue Luke. Sometimes, he can't even be bothered to, so Calum has to do it. Luke figures he should know how to act when being on the brink of death, not Ashton. 

Luke pulls the phone from his ear and glances down at the call screen for a moment (they've only been talking for six minutes and twenty five seconds). When he glances back up, Michael's nowhere to be seen out the windshield, over any of the stopped cars in front of them. He frowns and turns to the right to ask his new friend and kidnapper about his shitty boyfriend, only to see Michael standing next to the car. Luke shrieks in surprise, which makes Michael jump and look around quickly like there's someone behind him. 

“Where's-” Luke shoves his head out the window and glances down to find the married man on the ground in a crumpled heap of his own blood. He smacks Michael in the chest. “I was talking to him!” 

“Oh, were you?” Michael scoffs. “Sorry, I'll run him down to the hospital quick, maybe pick up some flowers for him on the way.” 

Luke sits back again and crosses his arms. Arm, maybe, he's still on the phone. He stares straight ahead and mutters, “Are you going to call his husband and tell him he's dead, too?” 

Michael stays silent at that, but Ashton hums in approval down the line. Michael crawls back into the car on the driver's side and mumbles, “He's not dead,” he waves his hand in reference to the sirens sounding in the distance. “They'll get him, he'll be fine.” 

Luke continues scowling, only to get cut off by another body thudding onto the hood of their car, making it jolt violently again. Scrambling for Michael's arm, Luke grips the phone tighter against his ears, then scowls at the red legs visible through the windshield. 

“Ew, gross, there's a spider on our car,” Michael flicks the wipers on again, then sprays windshield cleaning fluid. Calum squawks and shouts at him, stumbling back slightly. 

Luke huffs at Ashton with a scowl. “I told you not to tell him!” 

“I thought you were going to die!” Ashton defends himself, while Calum shoots a web at the windshield wipers and sticks them to the glass. 

“I get kidnapped, like, once a week, I was fine!” Luke protests. Ashton sputters at that, then huffs, like he knows it useless to argue with the younger blonde. Honestly, Luke's glad he's catching on so fast, he doesn't feel like arguing unless the argument is smashing Michael's skull against the wall. 

In the driver's seat, Michael forcefully flicks the knob for the windshield wipers in an attempt to force them to rip out of the webs. Calum crosses his arms on the hood of the car and waits patiently until he gives up, crossing his arms and slouching. 

“You are in so much trouble,” Calum tells him. 

Luke's not in the mood for that either, honestly. A quick glance around reminds him that they're still at the stop light, car running, unlike all the cars around them. They've been turned off and abandoned by their passengers, but most of them are behind them at the stop light. A couple cars are abandoned in front of them in various means of stopped, one is jumped over the curb and halted on the sidewalk. Luke plans his escape route quickly, visualizing the path between the abandoned cars in front of them, through the intersection. 

Slowly, so as not to startle Calum, Luke reaches over to the middle console and shifts the car into drive, making sure Michael's foot is on the break. Michael glances at him, but Luke can't tell if he's angry or confused or understanding, he can't see anything under that fucking mask. He hates that mask. 

“Michael, I'm going to-” Calum's still ranting on the hood of their car, apparently, not that either of them are listening. “I don't know what I'm going to do yet, but you are in so much trouble! Look at this mess, dude!” 

Luke reaches over slowly and places the hand that's not clutching the phone to his ear on Michael's knee gently. The car rolls forward a bit when his foot eases off the break, but Calum doesn't seem to notice. Luke gently guides Michael's foot to the gas pedal and presses down just enough that their car jerks forward. It stops, just as abruptly, and throws the dead body from the hood with a thump. Calum manages to stay standing, but squawks in displeasure.

“What was that?” Ashton demands. 

Luke flicks his eyes between Michael and Calum, who's still ranting and lecturing on the front of the car, before pushing Michael's knee again. He presses hard enough that the car speeds forward. The force of it throws Calum over the roof and onto the ground after they shoot down the road. 

“You did not just throw my boyfriend off your car!” Ashton yells through the phone. 

Luke makes an uncomfortable expression while Michael starts weaving through traffic. “Um, yikes. Gotta go, bye,” he quickly ends the call, ignoring Ashton's scream of his name on the phone and Calum yelling Michael's name behind them. 

Once they get about three blocks away, traffic resumes around them like it had been prior to the attack, and Luke breathes a sigh of relief. Michael holds his hand out between them, palm up, so Luke gives him a high five, quickly followed by a light kiss on the rough fabric of his mask.


	4. I’m Wishing You’re Here But I’m Wishing You’re Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from shots by imagine dragons!!!!! If u have any ideas for chapter titles pls let me know xoxo

Luke's fingers are gentle when they brush against Michael's throat. He gently picks at the tight suit until he catches an edge, so he can peel the mask up slowly, making sure Michael stays in place. He doesn't squirm until Luke pulls the mask up to his nose, so he stops, pushes it up more carefully, and smiles at the older boy. 

“Wanted you to stop there ‘cause it's perfect blow job height,” Michael tells him. Luke ignores him and swipes his thumb across Michael's bottom lip smoothly. 

The mask is pushed just under his nose, so Luke can cup his jaw with both hands and hold the fabric in place with his thumbs. “I love you. Most of the time,” Luke tells him. “And I know you don't, but I love your face. You're- you're cute as fuck, dude.”

Michael quirks an eyebrow at his ineloquent boyfriend, making sure Luke can see the expression through the mask. “Thanks.” Luke pinches his cheek. It doesn't hurt, but Michael still flinches because he pissed off Luke, apparently. “Uh, I mean, I love you too. Bro?” 

Luke pushes the mask up more firmly, nearly breaking Michael's nose with his thumbs and leans forward. He lets his lips hover over Michael's because they always, always, need to have consent for even the smallest things. Michael smiles fondly at his dumb blonde boy and leans in to slot their lips together. Luke's fingers tighten on his jaw and his eyelashes flutter shut as he falls forward, into Michael's chest even more. 

“i need to fix your mask,” Luke pulls away and brushes his nose against the bump of Michael's under the fabric. 

Not that Michael (or Luke, frankly) will admit it, but he loves this sappy shit. He loves when Luke gives him butterfly kisses and rubs their noses together and takes care of him. But, still, he has a reputation to uphold and his ability to handle sappy shit without crying or kissing his dumb cute boyfriend is quickly diminishing. He pulls his head back enough so their noses aren't touching anymore and allows Luke to assess the damage. 

There's several holes shot through Michael's suit, bare, blood flaked skin underneath, and a long hole torn through the left arm. Luke looks frustrated at the sight. 

“Why can't you get a suit that repairs itself? They have those, Calum has one,” Luke tells him, like Michael should know what kind of fabric Calum puts on himself. Calum probably doesn't even know what fabric he puts on himself. Michael is willing to bet his entire life savings that Ashton dresses the stupid spider- probably designed the suit and the fabric, too. 

“I don't think that's a thing,” Michael decides. He vividly remembers ripping a hole in Calum's suit, right over his chest, to piss him off. “I'm positive that's not a thing.” 

Luke clicks his tongue and nods; apparently, they're stupid sappy moment is over. “It's a thing. I'll ask Ashton, we're getting coffee later.” 

Michael nudges him and smiles lightly, then remembers the mask isn't over his mouth to cover his fond, in love expression, and schools his face back into an impartial look. Luke, obviously, notices and grins. “Don't get kidnapped. I'm too busy to save you today.” 

“Like you fucking would,” Luke snorts. He starts reaching behind Michael and fumbling around on the kitchen table, leaning into his masked boyfriend slightly. “You'd probably finish the season of My Name is Earl you're on before coming to look for me.” 

“He just went to jail, come on, you're not being fair!” Michael protests. Luke gives him an amused, yet annoyed look, something Luke has mastered. It's also something Michael has mastered ignoring. He shakes his head and watches Luke's face contort as he fumbles around behind Michael's back. They're both on fold out chairs, Luke's directly in front of Michael's, with Michael's back to the kitchen table. They've never used the damn table, except for tossing things onto carelessly and occasionally swiping everything onto the floor to fuck against it, so Michael's not sure what his concerned boyfriend is searching for. 

He's too endeared by the pretty face directly in front of him to ask, anyway. 

After a few seconds, Luke pulls away and leans back in his chair with a roll of black electrical tape in his hands. He picks at the edge, bottom lip caught between his teeth, before he manages to tug it free and rip a small piece off. He leans forward and nudges Michael's head to the side with fingers on his jaw, before placing the tape directly over one of the bullet holes shot through Michael's skull. 

“Like a glove,” Luke says proudly. Michael brushes his fingers over the tape with an incredulous expression under is mask, while Luke starts picking at the roll to get another piece off. 

“What kind of gloves do you wear?” Michael can feel loose strings around the tape and it bothers him. “The weird shoe ones? Because, baby, those go on your feet.” 

“My gloves fit me perfect,” Luke places another piece over a hole on Michael's bicep. “Don't patronize me.” 

“You don't even know what patronize means,” Michael rolls his eyes. 

Luke peels off a longer piece and wraps it around the tears ripped straight up Michael's forearm. It sticks to his arm hair and skin and makes him squirm, but Luke seems proud of the tactic. He glances up again and starts peeling off more pieces to cover bullet holes. “Michael, please don't make fun of me. I was born with glass bones and paper skin-” Michael reaches over and punches him in the shoulder. Luke squawks and grabs at his shoulder, then yells, “Every morning I break my legs and every afternoon-” 

Michael cuts him off by pressing their mouths together. 

 

☆☆☆☆

 

Okay, this one might be Michael's fault. Maybe. Maybe, like, in the tiniest way. 

He's crouching next to the lake, one hand on his knee and the other buried in thick, brown hair, fingers scratching at the thick skull beneath him. The man gasps, water dripping down his face and cresting over his lips. The blood dripping from his eyebrow mixes with the dirty lake water running down his face and spiderwebs across his skin. 

“Now, I'll ask you one more time,” he hums, fingers tightening in the hair as the man struggles to get away. He flinches, his feet slipping behind him in the sand. That's what he gets for wearing dress shoes to the beach. “Why did your people attack me and my boyfriend, huh? What was the point?” 

The man uses what's left of his strength to flick his eyes up to Michael and glare. The whites of them are glossy and red, while his pupils look duller than Michael remembers when he'd first tracked this idiot down. 

When he stays silent for a while longer, Michael shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He plunges the man's head back into the water and holds him there, making sure to press his face into the murky looking sand at the bottom. He screams under the water and thrashes in the sand, spraying some up enough that it hits Michael. He can barely feel it through his suit, but it still annoys him. 

He's seen a lot of people die, and this one is really the most average he's ever come across. The yelling, the refusal to talk, the thrashing, it's all very boring. Michael holds his free hand out and picks at his nails with a scrunched up nose. His cuticles are a mess, Luke's going to kill him with the cuticle pusher. Luke's stuck in a phase of nail care, lately, and Michael is his one and only hand model. 

Glancing up, he's suddenly glad they're concealed on a private beach, one covered in thick foliage and away from the park. He peers across the small stretch of water that separates him from the main park and spots an attractive woman in a sports bra (He loves Luke), jogging along the path closest to the shore, with a tiny white dog. The dog is fluffy and panting happily, following along with his fast little legs. 

Michael gasps out, “Oh my god,” and releases the man's head. He immediately jerks back and and fall onto his back in the sand, coughing and gasping for breath. Michael ignores him and whips out his phone. He zooms in on the little dog running on the path as soon as he gets snapchat open and takes the longest video he can. When it starts replaying on his screen, he adds the caption “Wow, look at him go!!!!!!!” and sends the video to both Luke and Calum (who's snapchat user is sickspidey, and only posts dog pictures and videos of Ashton on his story- Michael's probably going to block him soon).

As soon as he sees it's sent, he shoves his phone back into the inside pocket of his suit, right over his chest, and rezips the front. 

“Sorry, where were we?” He glances back down at the man who's clutching his ribs through his ugly Hawaiian shirt, still coughing, but now gagging slightly, as well. He's got wet, muddy, sand stuck to his chin, lips, and the tip of his nose. Glaring up at Michael, his mouth drops open to let out a few pants and water trickles down his chin. Michael is unimpressed. “Right, why did you attack me and my boyfriend on the street?” 

The man closes his mouth and clenches his jaw for a second, then spits as hard as he can in Michael's direction. It sticks to his chest and starts dripping down, making Michael sigh heavily.

“That's disgusting,” he informs him. “Didn't your mother teach you any manners?” He doesn't give the man a chance to answer (not that he would) before he grabs him by the hair and hauls him forward again. He shoves his head into the polluted lake water and holds him down while he thrashes and yells. Michael thinks the yelling is excessive, it'll just make him die quicker. 

His movements get weaker quicker this time, but something hard and solid slams into Michael's shoulder before he can finish killing him. In his surprise, his fingers unlace from the man's hair and he jerks up, gasping for breath and slipping on his own hands braced underneath him. There's a fist sized rock laying on the ground at his knees. Michael furrows his eyebrows, up until a thin stream of white webbing sticks to the rock and yanks it away. He follows it with his eyes and finds the stupid spider running towards them, already a few meters away. 

“Next time you send me a dog video, make sure your sound is off,” Calum suggests. 

Michael rolls his eyes and says, “I'm just going to block you, honestly. The only reason I have your snapchat is because we matched on tinder that one time. Which I still haven't told Ashton about.” 

“Stop, I was looking for him on there, he has the app!” Calum protests, suddenly very defensive. Michael abandons his murdering duties and stands to face Calum as he reaches the small beach. 

“You swiped-” 

“Why are you killing this guy?” Calum cuts him off. Michael rolls his eyes at the topic change and decides to indulge Calum with the details. 

“This is the guy that sent his people to attack me and Luke on the street the other day,” Michael explains, gesturing to the man still hunched over on the edge of the beach, just as he throws up violently in the water. Scrunching up his nose, Michael turns back to the idiot on front of him and crosses his arms. 

“When you killed almost all of his people?” Calum elaborates. Michael nods, pleased with his current actions.

“Luke was, you know, all in danger and stuff,” he explains. “I didn't want it to happen again. Besides, he had a picture of Ashton on his phone when I got here. You know how much I love looking at pictures of your extremely attractive boyfriend, but,” he gestures to the iPhone, now completely dead and waterlogged next to Michael's feet. “Ashton is really just a hop, skip, and jump away from me and I'm way too pretty to be hurt.” 

Calum's suddenly way too tense to respond, shoulders scrunched feet set apart like he's ready to strike at any given moment. He glances around, so Michael follows his eyes in confusion. Calum's probably calling an army of his spider friends and Michael's not about to be run over by some eight legged hairy fuckers. He shudders at the mere thought and looks around more frantically. Calum glances at him, frowns, and follows Michael's eyes as they daft around the tree tops. 

It's an endless cycle and, by the time they look back, the man in the ugly Hawaiian shirt is gone. All that's left of him is sopping wet sand and a few holes his thrashing body had left as Michael held him under the water. 

Calum gasps and glances around again, but it's clear he's no where to be seen. “I thought you were watching him!” He cries. 

“Me?” Michael scoffs. “I don't give a shit about him, I thought you were watching him!” 

Calum slumps his shoulders and frowns at Michael. “What the hell were you looking at?”

“I was waiting for the spider friends you were clearly calling!” Michael replies. Calum's quick to pull the bottom of his mask up until the majority of his face is visible, just to pointedly shoot Michael an incredulous look.

“I wasn't calling spiders!” Calum shoves his mask back down and secures it, again. “I can't even do that! I was making sure he didn't have any other men hiding in the trees, you idiot! You're so infuriating!” 

Michael reaches up and plugs his nose with his first finger and thumb. “I'm Calum, I can use big words,” he says in the most nasally voice he can muster. Calum crosses his arms and somehow manages to look unimpressed. 

“Sometimes I wish I was you,” Calum informs him. Michael is pleased by the information. “Then, I could kill you with my bare hands and feel nothing.” 

“It's one of my greatest assets,” Michael agrees. “Along with my charming good looks and impeccable taste in men. Speaking of, how's Ashton?” 

Calum makes a loud frustrated noise and drags his fingers across the top of his head like he can grip his hair through his mask. Michael is also pleased by his frustration. 

“People usually tend to groan a lot around me,” Michael nods. “I mean, I personally prefer moaning, but you seem like the manly groaning type. Can I feel your manly Adams apple?” 

“I hate you so much,” Calum tells him. 

Michael makes a big show of bowing deeply, complete with hand gestures and a wink that he hopes is visible. “Truly the most honest and beautiful thing you've ever said to me.” 

“I'm leaving,” Calum decides. He fiddles with his wrist and mutters, “By the way, you don't have any charming good looks. You look like a pepperoni pizza fucked a sunburnt avocado.” He tilts his wrist and shoots a web into the trees surrounding them, sends Michael a final glare, and swings off to continue bettering the world. 

“Did you at least like the dog video?” Michael shouts after him. Calum's long gone, so he pulls out his phone again and finds a new snapchat from Luke. 

It's a cute picture of his pretty blonde boyfriend sitting with Ashton at some café, both of them looking entirely too happy, considering Michael isn't there, and the caption “Look at that dogo go!!!!!!”


	5. Who You Gonna Call?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from ghostbusters by Ray Parker jr. or walk the moon. Or pentatonix.

Calum's never really liked elevators. Like, he doesn't understand why people created these giant metal boxes and hung them from cables to go up and down bigger, concrete buildings. He figures he was totally fine with skyscrapers and elevators until he got bit. 

As a superhuman, he could probably heft the elevator up and drag it from floor to floor by himself if need be, or he could shoot out of here and save himself if the building went down. Technically he doesn't have a problem with elevators and other mechanical tragedies. 

Ashton, however. 

Calum's eyes flick to his right, where Ashton's messing with his hair on the shiny surface of the elevator doors. He furrows his eyebrows at his reflection, pushes his two strands of hair to the left, and brightens up considerably. Only to frown again and start the entire process over. He's been doing this for forty six floors, now. 

Calum hates elevators because Ashton is small and delicate and trapped in them for 88 floors, at least four times a day. They make Calum obnoxiously nervous, because his completely vulnerable human boyfriend seems totally fine taking the elevator. Like he couldn't fall to his death at any second. Like the building won't collapse in on him. Like nothing could possibly go wrong. 

Calum kind of wishes Ashton was, like, a landscaper or something. There's no giant, cement and metal buildings in landscaping. Just dirt and plants and sharp fences and lightning and electric mishaps- 

Okay, maybe not a landscaper. 

Calum wishes Ashton could just sit at home or maybe in an underground bunker, nice and cozy and safe. Unfortunately, someone has to make money so they can afford their apartment and food and other necessities and being an overgrown spider doesn't pay much. 

When the elevator signals that they're on the 80th floor, Ashton finishes fussing with his already perfect hair and turns to cup Calum's cheeks gently. “Oh, god, you look-” 

“Great, I know,” Calum interrupts. 

Ashton gives him an unimpressed look and taps his cheek. Calum speaks Ashton, luckily, and picks at his covered throat until he finds an edge and can pull the bottom half of his mask up, stopping at his nose. Ashton smiles fondly when Calum shows him his clean teeth. “You're right, you look great. I was going to say average or mediocre, but the teeth really sealed the deal. “ 

“I know, they're great,” Calum smiles. The elevator dings, so Ashton darts forward and kisses him softly before Calum rolls down his mask again. “I'll come meet you for lunch, okay? Love you.” 

“You're alright,” Ashton pats his cheek as the doors open. Rolling his eyes, Calum watches him bounce out of the tiny steel trap with his Official Scientists Badge. He holds it up and grins triumphantly at Calum before bounding off to go do Science-y things Calum won't understand. 

The doors start closing just as Luke slips in, looking unimpressed by Calum's presence. “What is it, Walk Your Boyfriend to Work Day?” He mutters. He's got what seems to be an extra large cup of coffee one hand, still steaming, and a slip of paper with more coffee orders in the other. 

“I'm sure Michael would be on top of that,” Calum responds dryly. Luke snorts and shrugs while taking a sip of his coffee. “But, no, I have a meeting. I have to talk to people about bad guy stuff. You know, what a superhero does. Actually, you wouldn't know.” 

“No, I would not,” Luke agrees. “I am merely a lowly intern and my boyfriend gets money through stealing and murdering, while you are an almighty hero, got it.” Calum glances at him with a raised eyebrow, which makes Luke straighten up and tug at the collar of his dress shirt with the hand holding the coffee orders. “I mean, he has a 9 to 5 job, that's where he gets money. This is a paid internship. I have a filter.” 

Calum sighs heavily and rubs a hand over his forehead. “Luke- forget it. Call Ashton and make sure you get him something to drink, as well. Don't run his first day as an Official Scientist.” 

The elevator dings and Luke bows slightly, “Yes, master,” he says sarcastically. Calum understands why he's dating Michael, they're really perfect for each other. 

“Bye, Luke,” Calum steps out of the elevator on his floor. 

“See ya, Spidey-Bitch,” Luke replies as the doors slide shut. Calum blinks at the sealed doors and wonders if he'd gotten that from Michael or Ashton. It's a toss up. Shaking his head, he turns away from the elevators and glances down at his hand. He gently tugs at the hem of his glove until he can see his palm, where Ashton had written the room number his meeting is. The ink is smeared now (his suit doesn't really have the best ventilation system and it tends to get hot), so he can't really make out the number. 

Luckily, there's a large, round desk about ten paces in front of him with a blonde woman behind it. She stands abruptly when she sees him and says, “Mr- uh. Mr. Spider?” 

“Please, that's my father's name,” Calum replies. She gives him an odd look, so he laughs nervously and says, “No, I'm sorry, that was a bad joke. Anyway, what do you think this says?” He holds out his partially uncovered hand and points to the smeared numbers, walking towards the desk. “I'm supposed to have a meeting here, but I can't read it.” 

“Oh!” She nods quickly and beams at him. “Yes, right this way!” She hurries out from behind the desk, heels clicking, and gestures for him to follow. He does, after a quick glance around to ensure no one is following them. Also to check for cracks or weak spots in the building, just for his own peace of mind. 

She leads him to room 1825, so Calum glances down at his hand and pieces together that the 7 was a 2 and the B was an 8. Ashton's terrible at penmanship and Calum's great at sweating, evidently. He thanks the receptionist, who smiles and holds the door open for him before scurrying away.

“Hey, hi, sorry I was late,” Calum rushes out, looking at the already full room. There's exactly one chair left, at the head of the table, so Calum throws himself into it and keeps running his damn mouth. “I met an intern in the elevator, Luke Hemmings? He's great at what he does, you should give him a raise. Anyway, great to be here, I'm- yeah, I'm spiderman.” 

The man at the exact opposite end of the table, in an elaborate black suit and dark, blue tie, looks unimpressed. A couple of the other businessmen on either side of the table crack smiles and hide snickers in their water glasses or hands. Calum hopes his enthused smile shows through his mask. 

“Like I said,” the man directly in front of Calum stands and looks at the other people in the room. “He was the only one left.” 

“At your service,” Calum mock salutes them. 

The man unbutton his suit jacket and finally looks at Calum. “Nice of you to join us, I'm Timothy Marks, executive of the Marks Science Center.” 

“Totally cool to meet you, Tim- can I call you that?” Calum asks, pointing at him with one webbed finger. Timothy Marks looks exasperated and Calum knows he should stop talking or at least keep it professional, but he's nervous and he can't shut up when his nerves get to him.

Tim sighs and rubs at his cheekbones, then nods. “Sure, kid. As I was saying, this is Michael Chang, head scientist, General Lacy of the United States army, General White of the United States Military, and Elizabeth May, head of disease research.” 

The introductions probably take a little longer than they should, since Calum keeps adding commentary such as “Cool, cool, Sick name, awesome eyeliner, love the dress, man,” Tim looks tired. The other four look pleased to have Calum there, however. 

When they're finished, Tim grabs a slim remote from the table and presses a button. The small screen on the wall behind him flicks on to show a creepy looking white guy with a brownish red beard and circular glasses. “This is Chester Silk, a French scientist who focuses on diseases and human anatomy.” 

“Creepy, definitely a weird guy-” Calum cuts off, then hurries to add, “Oh, not that I'm, you know, judging him, this is a judge free Zone here, I just mean he's definitely got some weird interests.” he pauses again and holds his hand out towards the two scientists. “Oh, no offence.” 

Tim stares until Calum's finished rambling, then sighs again. “Yes. As I was saying-” 

Calum glances around the room curiously as he continues. Mainly, he's trying to confirm that the building is as sturdy as it seems. His eyes flicker over to the window to search for cracks, when he notices something red and black on the roof next door. The building is smaller, probably only fifteen floors at the most. Calum, stuck on the eighteenth floor of this building, squints against the sun reflecting off the solar panels and windows of the surrounding skyscrapers. 

He hisses when his eyes focus and blinks a few times to make sure this is real. Michael is, indeed, standing on the edge of the roof next door. And there is definitely some guys foot in his hand as he hangs him upside down over the sidewalk. 

“Oh my god,” Calum mutters, then louder, cutting off Tim. “Hey, does this window open?” Everyone looks confused and Calum doesn't want to alarm anyone, so he fans himself and says, “Uh, hot.” 

“Right,” Tim gives him another unimpressed look, but nods. “Yes, it opens. Be careful, there's no screen.” 

“Thank god,” Calum mutters. He hops out of his chair and crouches down to crank the smaller window open just enough. Michael still hasn't noticed, so Calum says, “I have to- uh, I'll be back in a hot second. I might need to catch something.” 

He shoves his head out of the window and shouts, “Hey!” Michael glances up and squints at the building. When he catches sight of Calum, he visibly startles and releases the guy's leg, sending him tumbling straight down to the busy sidewalk below. “You idiot!” Calum cries while Michael bolts across the roof. 

Calum mutters under his breath while throwing himself bodily out the window and flicking his wrist to shoot a web. He swings through the air, cooling considerably as the wind flies by him, and keeps his eyes locked on the body falling. Calum's quick, so he's only gone around five floors down. Shooting another web, Calum gets himself at the right angle and swoops down low enough that he slams his body into the falling guy's. He instantly wraps his arms around Calum's neck and screeches in his ear. 

“Hey, wow, chill,” Calum chokes out. He shoots a final web and swings low enough to catch himself on the ground, running a few steps to slow down. When he stops, he peels the guy's arms off of him and gently peels him off. “What happened?” 

“I don't know!” The guy cries, tugging at his black hair as tears well up in his eyes. He's wearing a blue shirt under a coffee stained, white apron, and Calum's starting to piece everything together. “I work at Starbucks and I messed up and accidentally spilled coffee on this guy and then that other one was yanking me across the counter and-” he let's out a panicked sob and Calum runs a hand down his face. 

“Let me guess, was the guy you spilled coffee on blonde?” He asks. “Unnaturally tall, kind of pissed off to begin with?” 

“I- I guess, why?” The guy asks.

Calum groans and looks up towards the rooftops to see if he can catch sight of Michael. He's obviously cleared out, which makes Calum scowl. A quick glance around confirms that there's a crowd gathering around them, all gasping and pointing as usual, so Calum steadies Michael's last victim and tells them, “Call an ambulance to make sure this guy's alright.” 

A couple people nod and pull out their phones, as Calum pats the guy's shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he shoots another web and flies off before anyone can respond.


	6. I’m Gonna Be The Man That’s Havering To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from I’m gonna be (500 Miles) by the proclaimers!!!!!

Another thing Calum doesn't like: cars. Among all other dangerous means of transportation, he considers automobiles one of the worst. They're at the top of the list, right between giant metal birds with fan blades fast enough to chop his boyfriend into dust, and huge, speeding trains on sharp tracks, buried under hundreds of pounds of dirt. Calum hates all transportation. 

Again, underground bunker. Somewhere Ashton would be safe no matter what. 

Except in the event of a massive cave in of the earth- whatever, Calum's getting ahead of himself. The point is, he doesn't trust cars, anything on wheels, and anything made of metal or hard material, to carry his perfect boyfriend. Above all, he doesn't trust the human error every single thing carries constantly (except anything Ashton does). 

Which is why Calum is clad in his skin tight suit again, zipping from building to building on thin webs, with Ashton pressed tight to his chest. Probably lecturing him. The wind is loud, Calum can probably say he couldn't hear Ashton's complaining when he asks. 

“Stop, stop, stop!” Ashton yells at the top of his lungs, like Calum has absolutely no idea what he's doing. He lands gently on top of the science center, despite Ashton's screeching, and steadies both of them. As soon as they're standing still, Ashton's feet drop from where they'd been latched tightly around Calum's waist, but his arms stay curled around Calum's neck. 

“I'm going to kill you, I can walk by myself,” Ashton's scowling at him, so Calum takes the opportunity to peel up the bottom of his mask and press a kiss to his nose. “Stop it, I am walking to work from now on.” 

“What? No way!” Calum frowns as he peels the mask completely off. This is the tallest building in the area, no one is going to see them way up on the roof. Ashton's hands are in his dark hair in a second, tugging his fingers through the unruly curls that have been matted to his head for roughly an hour. As he pulls, Calum frowns and tugs an arm around his waist. “There's no way you're walking. What if, like, a giant piano falls on you? Or an anvil?” 

“We're not in a cartoon, I'll be fine,” Ashton's still scowling, but it's lessened now that he has a distraction from their rough, early morning ride. 

“Okay, what about a car crash?” Calum asks patiently. “Cars hop the curb all the time. What if you get mugged? What if you don't have any money on you and the mugger stabs you? What if you get jumped? What if your shoe is untied and you trip and fall into traffic. What if-” 

“Fine, what about a car?” Ashton suggests.

“That's even worse!” Calum scoffs. Ashton's hands drift down to smooth out his eyebrows and thumb an eyelash off his cheek. “All of that can happen when you're in a car, but it'll be even worse because you're trapped in, like, twelve million tons of steel and shit!” 

“The subway?” 

Calum stares at him in horror and yells, “The subway?! You mean Dangerous Underground Death Tube?!” 

Ashton rolls his eyes and pinches Calum's cheek between his fingers. Whining, Calum turns his head to kiss his fingers until Ashton smiles fondly. “Stop worrying about me. People walk and ride the subway everyday.” 

“Not you,” Calum replies. “You're special, and this is one of the most dangerous cities in the world. If anything happened to you, I'd- I don't know, I don't even want to think about it. I'd just die.” 

“Stop it,” Ashton rolls his eyes again and pulls his hands away from Calum's face. 

“I'd die, Ashton, I'd just die!” Calum repeats, following behind Ashton as he starts to walk towards the door leading down into the building. “If you die, I die, let's just make a suicide pact now. Come on, we can swear on our blood.” 

Ashton spins on his heels to face him and walks backwards, making sure Calum sees how unamused he is. “We're not making a suicide pact or swearing anyone in blood. And you're not dying.” 

Calum jogs forward until he can grab his boyfriend around the waist and pull him to a stop on top of the roof, hands on his waist and smile tilting his lips up. “Hey, I'm serious. I don't know what I would do without you.” 

“You'd go to Michael and Luke,” Ashton tells him, ignoring the way Calum's nose scrunches up immediately. “Stop it, you would. If something ever happened to me, you'd go to them right away. I don't know about Michael, but Luke would help you with anything, and he'd comfort you if he had to.” Calum frowns at how Ashton knows them all so well and tilts down to kiss his mouth lightly, before Ashton adds, “And I mean, if you grieved the proper amount of time, I don't see why you couldn't just… you know. Get your dick in there.” 

“Oh my god,” Calum groans, but it gets a smile out of him as his eyes flick to Ashton's, right in front of him. “If I died and you got your dick anywhere near Michael, I'd probably raise from my grave to stop you.” 

“Oh, what, Luke's fine?” Ashton laughs again and pulls his arms around Calum's neck to tug at the hairs on the back of his neck. 

Calum nods immediately. “Yeah, go for Luke. I actually like him. Besides, that kid is going places, unlike Michael.” 

“First of all, they're both, like 10 years older than you,” Ashton points out. Calum tries to scowl, but he really can't with how Ashton is so close, pressing their foreheads together still and smiling softly. “And, second, I'd go for Michael. He won't baby me like you do.” 

“Oh, stop, you love it,” Calum pinches his waist, so Ashton tugs on his hair sharply. 

“You'd go for Luke,” Ashton informs him. “Because Luke is safe, and you like safe. Plus, he would let you protect him and keep him as safe as you wanted. I'd go for Michael because I totally live life on the edge all the time.” 

He gives Calum a pointed look, instantly smiling again when he scoffs and releases the left side of his waist to gesture wildly around them. “I flew you to work! We're on a building! Is that not living life on the edge?” 

“It would be, if you didn't do it to keep me off the subway,” Ashton points out. Okay, he's got a point, but Calum still isn't letting him get on any dangerous metal subways. 

Calum shakes his head and presses a kiss to Ashton's lips again. “Stop talking about it, you're stressing me. Besides, their entire relationship is a train wreck and I never ever want to think about it again. Speaking of train wrecks-” 

“I'm riding the subway,” Ashton kisses him for the last time before spinning out if his grip and marching across the roof again. Calum chases him down the stairs and into the building, then into the elevator. They pass Ashton's floor and go straight to floor 18, where Calum's meetings are usually held. 

Calum needs to know what's going on still, he hadn't got a whole lot out of the last meeting, and Timothy Marks was gone when Calum got back from rescuing Michael's murder victims. He's not exactly the best at absorbing information, so Ashton's tagging along. Mainly to take in the information Calum misses.

Ashton straightens out his lab coat and fancy Official Scientist badge in the elevator doors, then nearly cries because of how much his hair had been messed up in the wind. 

“I am taking the subway,” he mutters firmly, then proceeds to fuss with his hair the rest of te way down. Calum's glad he'd pulled the mask back on, so Ashton doesn't see when he rolls his eyes. 

The receptionist smiles and says, “Mr. Spider,” before she's smiling coyly at Ashton and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hi, Ashton.” 

“Hey!” Ashton enthuses. Calum scowls and grabs for his hand, only to get slapped away. While they walk towards the meeting room (that Ashton remembers), Ashton elbows him in the ribs and says, “Everyone in this building flirts with me, I'm young and cute, so get over it.” 

“Underground bunker,” Calum whispered to himself like a calming mechanism, breathing in before letting all the air out of his lungs again. Ashton gives him an odd look, but doesn't ask. He knocks on the door politely, but Calum grabs the handle and shoves in right away, forcing a sharp chastising noise from Ashton. 

“Stay professional,” he hisses. 

Calum rolls his eyes and grabs Ashton's wrist, then tugs him into the room. Everyone is already seated around the table (again), and they all turn to look when Calum drags a blushing Ashton into the room. “Hey, hello, sorry I'm late. Again. I probably won't bolt away this time, but- you know, superhero responsibilities and all the garbage!” 

He sits in the out remaining seat at the head of the table and shoots out a web. It sticks to the arm rest of one of the chairs there, so he tugs it over until it knocks against his, then pat the backrest for Ashton. The blonde is still blushing furiously and refusing to meet anyone's eyes at his boyfriend's abrupt entrance. 

“We said come alone,” Timothy Marks eyes Ashton pointedly.

“Yeah, well,” Calum reaches over to pat Ashton's head, even though it just makes Ashton glare at him. “This is my personal assistant. He listens a lot better than me, and he's a scientist here, so you can tell him big fancy words and he'll dumb it down for me!” 

Ashton looks up, not quite meeting Marks’ eyes, and nods shyly. “Sorry, I can go, sir.” 

“No he can't,” Calum says firmly. If Ashton leaves, he'll probably miss 80% of the information they tell him. He's not the best listener. 

Timothy Marks sighs and rubs a hand down his face, but must accepts it. “Fine. Nice to see you again, Ashton. This is not Michael Chang, head scientist, General Lacy of the United States army, General White of the United States Military, and Elizabeth May, head of disease research.” Ashton smiles at them all respectfully, while Calum leans forward to whisper a compliment to General White about her eyeliner, again. Ashton's quick to grab his shoulder and yanks him back, pressing him into the chair forcefully. 

Everyone in the room seems pleased that someone can put Calum in his place. Except Calum. Marks clicks at the remote in his hand and gestures to the photo of the bad guy that appears on the wall behind him. Before he can even get one word out, Ashton whips a notebook and two different colored pens from his bag, so he can take notes. Like the loser he is. 

Marks goes through the information again, while Ashton scribbles away in alternating blue and red pens. “This is Chester Silk, a French scientist who focuses on diseases and human anatomy,” Marks explains. “He was recently hired by the French government to create a virus to target people with string immune systems. It would cause them to be extremely sick and unable to stand. We have reason to believe that the French are planning an attack on our country, but will weaken our army, first and foremost.” 

“Cool, cool,” Calum nods, even though it's very not cool. Ashton is one of the healthiest people he knows. This is very not cool.

“Sure,” Marks gives him an odd look, while Ashton shoots him another burning glare. “We need you,” He points at Calum, who places a hand over his chest at the recognition. “To find where Silk is hiding, destroy the virus, and bring Silk to us so we can put him in jail for terrorism. May?” 

Marks looks over to Elizabeth May, who Calum thinks is head of disease research. She nods and places her hands on the folder in front of her, then looks at Ashton. “Chang and I will be working to create an antidote, meanwhile. We were actually planning on asking you, Ashton, to help us, so it's good you're here.” 

Ashton stops writing abruptly and looks up, lips parting slightly in surprise. He flicks his eyes around the table, like he's looking for someone else named Ashton, before he pokes the red pen against his chest. “Me? But I was just hired as an official scientist, like, last month.” 

“You've been working here for five years as an intern and assistant,” May reminds him. Ashton smiles shyly again as she continues. “You're a hard worker, and very smart. We'd love to have your help in our research.” 

“Oh, I-” Ashton glances up to shoot Calum a smug look (which only makes Calum roll his eyes as fondly as possible), before he turns back to May. “Yeah, I'd love to help.” 

“Great-” Marks cuts out when a phone starts ringing in the room. Ashton tenses up when he hears the Kim Possible theme song, while Calum scrambles. He leans over, practically laying over of Ashton's lap, to get to his boyfriend's bag on the floor. After fumbling through the pockets, he manages to pull out his phone and finds a text from one of his police officer friends. 

“God damn it,” Calum mumbles as he sits up again. Everyone is staring at him, looking completely unimpressed. Except for Ashton, who's glaring at him. Calum reads over the text quickly and curses again, then looks up. “Hey, this has been super great, but I've got to head out. Mi- uh, fuck- Deadpool is trying commit murder, so, you know. Gotta stop him.” 

Everyone stares at him for a second. Ashton looks disappointed, which is roughly a million times worse than the disbelieving looks he's getting from everyone else. General White shakes her head after a silent second and says, “Something needs to be done about that man.” 

Her voice is filled with hatred as she says it and Calum flinches. Sure, he fights Michael a lot, but, at the end of the day, Calum still considers the two of them friends. So, sue him if he gets a little protective. Before he can say anything bitter and defensively, Ashton sits forward and says, “There is,” he gestures to Calum and informs the head of the United States Military, “He is handling the situation. Deadpool is too much of an asset to lock away in prison.” 

Calum blinks in surprise, while General White raises her eyebrows. “You consider a murderer an asset?” 

“With his abilities, yes,” Ashton admits. “I've received a sample of his tissue and I'm in the process of studying his psychological mindset and healing abilities. I will not be able to do that if he is in prison. Now, if you'll excuse the damage control.” He gestures for Calum to stand, so he does. Obediently. And he's a little stunned that Ashton would defend Michael so quick. Nothing more is said, besides Marks’ suggestion to get back on topic, so Calum takes a step toward the window. 

“No,” Ashton says immediately, without even glancing up from his notebook and two pens. Calum glances back, so Ashton points to the door. 

“Right,” Calum runs a hand through his honey curls as he passes as a thank you and darts out the door to track down Michael.


	7. No I’m Coming Apart Like I Knew I Would

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Impossible Tracks by The Kills

If there's one thing Michael loves (besides sex and, after a smack to the head, Luke), it's sleep. He loves sleep. He tries to average a nice balance of twelve to fifteen hours of sleep a day, ten when it's absolutely necessary for him to be out of bed earlier than noon. 

He's enjoying his great sleep (dreaming of Luke covered in chocolate, of course), when he's jolted awake by a loud smashing noise. The shattering is followed by a muffled thump and a panicked little yelp. Michael's eyes fly open angrily, ready to tear someone to fucking shreds for waking him up in the middle of an incredible dream. It's dark, but Luke practically flings himself out of bed trying to reach for the lamp on the bedside table.

He manages to flick it on, flooding the room with enough light that Michael's eyes narrow into slits. Luke whips back over and presses to his side as forcefully as possibly. Like Michael's supposed to protect him or something. Through squinted eyes, Michael makes out a figure hopping on one foot at the end of their bed, clutching the other in their hands, heel resting on their thigh. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Calum hisses out. His feet are bare and the right one is bleeding. He looks disheveled, wearing only sweatpants and a plain, wrinkly shirt, with his hair a complete mess. 

Luke sits up and frowns in confusion at him. “Calum? What the hell?” 

Michael sighs and sinks further into the bed, pulling at the blankets. Unfortunately, Luke's sitting on them, so the won't budge. Calum curses again and places one hand flat on the end of their bed to balance himself. “Fuck- Ash-Ashton's missing, he- he's just gone, I don't-” he cuts off to make a distressed noise and Michael sighs. 

Luckily, Luke crawls out of bed, so Michael can tug the blankets up and tuck them under his chin, again. “Missing?” Luke repeats. “Are you sure?” 

“His phone goes straight to voicemail,” Calum rushes out. “He- we fell asleep last night and he was just gone when I woke up at one! He was just gone!” 

“Gone?” Luke echoes. Michael sighs heavily and watches Luke stumbles around for a second, leaning heavily on the wall and slapping his arm around until he finds the switch for the overhead light. He slaps it and illuminates the room in a glaringly bright, artifical light. Michael gets a good look at Calum's panicked expression and bleeding foot before he groans and tugs the blanket up over his head. The stupid thing does little to block out the light, but every little bit helps.

“No!” Calum cries miserably. “No, don't, you have to help me!” 

“I'm good,” Michael replies. He rolls over and presses his face into the pillow, accidentally releasing the blanket and giving Calum the opportunity to rip it off of him. Michael grunts, but squeezes his eyes shut stubbornly to block out the damn lights (fuck Luke and his need to see, honestly). 

“Come on, calm down for a second,” Luke suggests. Calum makes an alarmed noise in response, like anything less than his current panicked state wouldn't benefit the situation in the slightest. “Jesus, Calum, you have glass in your foot. Sit down or-”

“I can't sit down, he's missing!” Calum screeches.

Luke makes an exasperated noise and yells, “Calum, sit!” There's a muffled whump that Michael's going to assume is Calum sitting on the spot obediently, followed by a cry of pain and Luke's frantic shout of, “Not on the fucking glass, you idiot!” 

Michael decides this shit show might be a little more amusing than sleep and peels one eye open to watch Luke drags Calum off the floor and into a standing position. He looks pained and terrified and Michael snorts in amusement.

“Just- here,” Luke shoves Calum face first onto the bed and says, “Don't fuckin’ move. I'm going to rip glass out of your ass. If you scream, I'll kill you. Michael, give him a pillow.” 

“Ugh,” Michael replies, but grabs Luke's abandoned pillow, anyway. He tosses it at Calum's head, which is pressed into the mattress next to his hip, and groans some more. Just to make it obvious that he isn't enjoying this in the slightest. Luke sets about ripping glass shards from Calum's ass and thighs and feet, so Michael sighs heavily and presses his own face into his pillow while Calum bites on Luke's. 

“You're a fucking idiot,” Luke tells him honestly. 

Calum whines and let's out a soft cry that's probably supposed to tug on Michael's heartstrings. It doesn't. “You have to help me find Ashton! Please!” 

“No,” Michael replies immediately. “Go home.” 

“I can't!” Calum sits up abruptly and starts worming his way up the bed. Michael scowls at him, but Calum just looks so miserable, he almost feels bad. Almost. “You don't understand, we need to find him!” 

“Nah,” Michael shrugs. “He's one for those lame ass hippies. He takes, like, walks and shit, right? Just go home and wait for him. If he doesn't come back in a week, Luke will maybe help you.” 

“Who goes for a week long walk?” Calum whines. “Besides, he wouldn't go with other telling me! And his phone keeps going straight to voicemail!” 

“Oh shit,” Luke replies. Calum let's out a noise of distress as he realizes Luke's realizing the severity of the situation. “Oh- okay, oh shit. He's dead! Michael, the kids dead!”

“Dead?!” Calum yelps as he thrashing his legs around enough so he can stand up, instantly wincing in pain. 

“He's fucking dead!” Luke repeats in a panic. Michael glances over to see his eyes wide, hands gripping his hair as he starts to pace. And, obviously steps on the glass. “Ow, fuck, fuck, Ashton's dead!” 

“Stop it!” Calum cries. “He's not- Oh, god, he's dead! He's fucking- Luke! He's so fragile!” 

“I know!” Luke agrees quickly. He throws himself onto the bed and lifts his feet to examine the bloody cuts. “He's, like, 12! He's too soft to handle himself in the real world!” 

“He's too soft!” Calum echoes. Michael sighs heavily and slumps into the bed as he realizes his sleep has been effectively ruined. After listening to Luke and Calum shriek at each other in a blind panic for a few more seconds, he sits up and groans miserably enough that the both shut their mouths and look at him.

“He's not dead,” Michael rolls his eyes. “Look, if he was kidnapped, they wouldn't immediately kill him. Obviously they want something from Calum, that's how kidnappings work. Now shut up, Calum, chill out. Luke, stop freaking out Calum.” 

Luke looks a little shamed, clearly reflecting on how many times he'd been kidnapped himself. He glances down and fiddles with a piece of glass stuck in his foot long enough that Michael just reaches over and rips it clean out of his skin. Luke yelps and shifts away to hide his injuries. 

“What do I- what do they want? I don't have anything!” Calum huffs. 

Michael shrugs as he tries to peel over Luke's shoulder to see his bloody foot. “For you to let them to over the city? I don't know, I never ask. Whatever, they'll contact you at some point, so just go home. Or somewhere that's not here.” 

“I can't, I'm too nervous,” Calum admits. Michael groans miserably again and turns around to look at his abandoned pillow wistfully. His stupid brain is too active, he'll never get back to sleep, now. He briefly entertains the thought of just removing it altogether (would it grow back?) and just passing out, but decides against it. He's never removed the entire thing, what if it doesn't grow back? He hasn't given Luke proper instructions for his funeral yet (open casket, drag queen makeup, live incineration, gift baskets filled with his ashes and some loose muffin chunks). 

Halfway through imaging his own funeral (music genre: early 2000s pop), he realizes Calum's still yammering on about whatever and Luke's still ripping glass out of his feet. 

“Leave,” Michael demands. Calum looks taken aback but doesn't move. After a short pause, he continues talking to whoever is listening. Michael suspects Luke is, the disgusting jerk. 

“They'll call soon,” Luke assures Calum quickly. “You're more than welcome-” 

“No,” Michael interrupts.

Luke continues. “To stay-”

“No!” Michael says louder.

“Here,” Luke finishes, completely ignoring the third miserable groan Michael emits. 

Calum sighs heavily and then decides to sit on the edge of the bed, slumping forward in defeat. “Thanks, Luke.” 

Michael zones out as he starts talking again, throwing himself back onto the bed with a huff. This is officially the worst night of his life. 

(He falls asleep ten minutes later, despite the chattering at the end of his bed.)


	8. Are you free or are you being borrowed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from are you free by the Maine!!!

“Okay, Alright, listen,” Calum flings himself through the already smashed open window for the second time in twenty four hours. The jagged glass cuts his skin open and spreads gashes along his biceps and shins. Michael smells blood. 

He sighs heavily and watches from where he’s curled up in a blanket nest, only head and hands showing through the mound, holding his brand new (stolen) Nintendo DS. He pulls it closer to him at the sight of Calum. Luke is sitting on top of the counter, swinging his feet into the cabinets below and running over some notes for work with an apple in his hand. The steady beat of his heels stutters and then stops altogether at the sound of Calum’s voice. 

They watch as he storms across their studio apartment, dressed in a simple shirt and hello kitty pajama bottoms, clutching an indiscernible amount of markers in his hand. Calum marches over to the front door, unlocks it, and flings it open. He easily shoots a web into the hall, then whips his wrist back to wheel a massive whiteboard into the already small room.

“Oh my god,” Michael says under his breath.

“Why didn’t you just come in the front door?” Luke raises his eyebrows. 

Calum huffs at them. “I am under a great deal of stress right now. Mind your business. Also, you wouldn’t have let me in.” 

Michael glances at Luke, trying to convey that he would, in fact, do everything in his power to keep Calum out of his home. Luke shrugs and says, “Fair enough. But, the elevator is broken and we live on the 12th floor, how did you get that thing up here?”

Calum shakes his head as he closes the front door and starts placing markers on the shelf in front of the board. “Sheer willpower.”

Michael snorts. Calum looks too busy to even be pleased by the response. Which, really, is unacceptable. Everyone should be thrilled when Michael gives them any sort of positive reaction- his snorts are far and few between. 

Calum starts drawing and writing on the whiteboard, but the back is facing Michael, so he can’t be sure what he’s writing. He ignores it, ignores Luke tilting his head curiously at the doodles, and returns to his Pokémon game. Calum whips a marker into his forehead when he starts humming the theme song, then shoots a web to bring it back to himself.

“Fucker,” Michael whispers. 

Calum ignores him. Luke gives him a chastising look, but offers no further comment. 

“Okay, listen,” Calum repeats. Michael sighs heavily to show his displeasure, dropping his DS and sarcastically offering Calum his full attention. Calum spins the board at a 45 degree angle, so they can both see what he’s written. An astounding amount of nonsense in thirty seconds. 

“Yes,” Luke looks extremely alert for a bitch, in Michael’s opinion. 

“This is Ashton,” Calum points to a crudely drawn ashton at the top, left corner of the board. It seems to be a stick figure with big, almond eyes, and a mess of curls on top of his head.

“No nose,” Michael notes. 

Calum shoots him an annoyed glare and then returns to his incredibly detailed drawing. Stick Ashton seems to be walking down a dark street (Michael can tell, due to the scribbled in background and one, solo street lamp erased into the mess). 

“So, Ashton decides to go for a walk around midnight- see? It’s dark- and I woke up around one to find him gone,” Calum moves onto a immaculate drawing of him in a bed, eyes massive and webs coming out of his wrists for seemingly no reason.

Michael senses a lull and says, “Wait, wait. You don’t sleep in, like, a coffin? Or upside down in a cave? You genuinely just sleep in a bed?”

“That’s Morticia Addams and Batman,” Luke shushes him and motions for Calum to continue.

“I do not build a web to sleep on every night,” Calum assures him. The pause there is just long enough for Michael to jump to conclusions and assume he absolutely does. There’s no way he doesn’t, at his point. Calum continues while Michael speculates. “Now, as soon as I got up, I called him fourty three times-“ (there’s a phone on the nightstand of the bed with the number 43 on it) “- and everyone went to voicemail. Now, at that point, I came over here.”

The next drawing is a surprisingly well executed action shot of Calum flying through their window, glass dispersing in every direction. He’s in his spidersuit, unlike he had been the night prior, so Michael assumes he has drawn this exact photo before, multiple times. For whatever reason.

“You traced the comics, didn’t you?” Michael squints at him.

Calum shoots him a confused look and says, “What? What comics? Can you, like, not do your fourth wall breaking thing right now? I’m explaining something.”

Michael looks at the camera like he’s on the office.

“Anyway,” Calum goes on, ignoring how Luke follows Michael’s line of sight to a blank wall and mutters “What? What the fuck?” Calum picks up the blue marker and tells them, “We need to figure out what happened between Ashton going for a walk at midnight and Ashton dying. Here, I made a list of things that might have happened.”

The list in question has a multitude of options available, including such hits as “Crushed in a Subway”, “killed by a lion”, and, Michael’s personal favorite, “dragged into the mountains by ????”. 

“He just got kidnapped,” Luke assures him, looking warily at the list. “Man, I’ve gotten kidnapped once a week for the past five years. If they want something, they’ll reach out to you. They wouldn’t just kill him and move on. Obviously, they want something from you.” 

“No, I get that,” Calum frowns at his whiteboard. “What I’m worried about, is that no one is trying to get to me. What if they just wanted to kill someone and they just so happened to grab Ashton? 

Luke looks concerned now, because that does seem plausible. Even to Michael, it seems like something that could happen. He shakes his head before he can worry too much and goes back to his game. It wasn’t paused, a button, was pushed, his fletchling is being challenged. He panics and frantically presses buttons but it’s too late. She’s dead. 

Michael groans and huffs until Luke shoots him a look. Calum is back to pacing around their small apartment, hello kitty pants swishing, hand on his chin. He furrows his eyebrows for a second, stops, looks at the white board, and keeps pacing. This pattern continues while Luke shuffles around, muttering about making tea in their shit microwave to calm some nerves, and Michael seeks out a Pokécenter. He’d been right in the middle of a good hunt, now he’s got to go all the way back and heal his damn bird.

Luke sets down a mug of steeping tea into the counter. The sound seems to give Calum an idea, as he stops pacing again and looks directly at Michael.

“You know that one famous photo of The Rock? You know, Dwayne Johnson?” Calum asks, like they don’t know who The Rock is. Michael loves Moana. “That one where he’s wearing a black turtleneck, gold chain, and fanny pack?”

“Yes, of course,” Michael says immediately. There’s a framed photo of it on his night stand that he points to in order to prove his loyalty to that specific photo.

Calum seems to enjoy it. “If you help me find Ashton, I’ll force him to recreate that exact photo.”

“This is incredibly tempting,” Michael admits. He glances between his DS and his framed photo of The Rock for a moment. “Your incredibly hot boyfriend? Dressed up as my incredibly hot boyfriend- The Rock?” 

If Luke notices, he doesn’t seem to mind.

Michael really thinks about it, but he’s tired and lazy and ready for a massive cat nap. “Nah,” he shrugs, then goes back to his game.

“Really?” Luke asks incredulously. “Wow, I really thought he had you with that one. You love Dwayne.”

“You have to say his name with more feeling, Luke,” Michael frowns as he tries to put as much effort as possibly into saying a bland ass name. “Dwayne. See? You gotta love him, first.” 

Luke says nothing, but gives him a bored look, while Calum scowls. 

“I’ll buy you a puppy?” He tries. 

“Try harder,” Michael replies. He’s got Luke, he doesn’t need a puppy. Also, puppies seem to be a lot of work.

Calum huffs and continues pacing. “Fine! I’ll do it myself, like everything else around here!” 

Michael wants to mention that he doesn’t even live here. He lives half an hour away in a fancy high rise. He says nothing, because Calum looks stressed to the point of snapping in half, and Michael’s not going to be the one to deal with it. Luke seems thrilled to take care of him, luckily.


	9. For A While You Were Gone It Was Hard It Was Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from tow the line by Mark Stoermer!!!!!

Calum’s moping. He knows he is, but he can’t help it. Luke had told him to go home, get some rest, and try to relax. He figured the kidnappers were withholding information so that they could catch him when he was emotionally vulnerable and ready to do absolutely anything to get Ashton back.

Which, alright, it was working. The longer Ashton was missing, the more Calum felt like he had no purpose in life or will to live. It might be dramatic, but whatever. Calum just wanted his stupid boyfriend back.

So, he’d gone home, sat on the couch, and tapped his fingers. And then he tried to read a book. And then he tried to take a nap. And then, and then, and then, he remembered he was a god damn superhero. If he was bored, he could just go fight some damn crime.

So, he headed out, found a skyscraper in Brooklyn, realized he didn’t have the strength to zip to the top, and climbed a thousand flights of stairs. When he’d gotten to the roof, he sat on the edge and pouted. His mind wouldn’t shut off. It kept running a million miles an hour, trying to think of any clues Ashton might have left him. Any signals he might have missed. Hey, maybe Ashton just up and ghosted him. 

Calum sighs heavily and rests his chin in his hand, elbow on his knee, hanging dangerously over the edge of the building. There’s a few pigeons fighting behind him, but other than that, he can’t see or hear any crimes he could stop. Maybe he’s not focused. Maybe his spider senses gave up on him. 

He’s fine with it, whatever. 

He’s just about to give up and start sprinting around the city when the hair on his arms pokes forcefully at his suit and a shiver runs through his body, jolting him alert. He furrows his eyebrows at the sudden sting of electricity and teeters on the edge of the building, quickly jolting back and falling back from the edge, tumbling onto the roof with a soft thump that makes the pigeons scatter. 

Calum huffs and stands, brushing himself off before another jolt of sharp, bitter cold dances along his spine. Yeah, danger, he remembers. His neck aches, but he ignores it. He’s sure his accelerated healing will take care of it sooner or later. The danger he senses seems to be coming from the streets below, an unknown force tugs him down, so he peers over the ledge and looks for any movement. 

His fingers curl over the hot metal of the siding on the building at the meer thought of stopping any danger. Can he even do that? He hadn’t been able to save Ashton, why would he be able to save anyone else. His heart picks up for a moment, before he catches a glimpse of bright red streaking down the middle of the street.

Michael seems to be bolting down the exact center of the avenue, a large, blue purse held high above his head. No ones chasing him. A couple people glance, but no one makes any move to stop him. Calum’s ears pick up a soft, “my purse,” undoubtedly from the 90 year old woman about two blocks down. Calum sighs and figures he should probably do something. It’s his job. 

“Hey!” He shouts. He knows Michael will hear him, even though he’s 58 stories in the air. Michael does, in fact, turn and look up, slowing slightly at the view of Calum climbing over the ledge on top of a building. 

Not having the strength or energy to do some cool web tricks and fly down to the ground dramatically, Calum jumps and decides to shoot a web when he gets closer to the ground to slow his fall. Except he forgets. He doesn’t remember to shoot a web, because there’s someone a few yards away from Michael with curly hair and soft skin and Calum slams into the ground with a deafening crunch.

He hears Michael say, “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Calum slumps in the ground and lets his undoubtedly broken bones set back together. It’s impossibly hard to breathe, but getting better by the second. Michael’s about a block away by now, but he turns and loops back, jogging up while Calum smushes his face into the sidewalk. 

“You’re so stupid,” Michael tells him. He reaches down and shoves Calum’s shoulder back into socket with a disgusted noise, then grasps it and hauls him into a standing position. Calum groans, stumbling back, and grabs his ribs. “What were you thinking?” Michael demands. “Just jump off a fucking building and pray to any god ever that you’ll be okay? Jeff Goldblum does not have that kind of power. Right now.” 

Calum doesn’t care enough to ask why Michael thinks Jeff Goldblum is god. He scowls at the criticism and leans into Michael, who quickly backs up.

“I’m not helping you!” He scoffs. “Go home!”

“It’s so quiet,” Calum mumbles. Michael glances up and notices several people around them on the busy street are holding out their phones to record them. 

He groans and says, “Great, now I look like a good guy. Calum, go home.” He backs up, flips Calum off, and yells, “Fuck you, Black Widow knock off!” 

He sprints down the street, clutching his purse, before Calum can whine anymore. He decides he doesn’t want to go home and takes off jogging after Michael. It’s not hard to catch up with him.

“Stop!” Michael shrieks. He clutches his new blue purse tighter.

“I’m sad!” Calum replies. He decides enough is enough and sends himself catapulting into Michael with all his force. They tumble to the ground, Michael screaming at top volume like he’s dying, and Calum scrambles to latch onto his back. 

Michael’s quick to get up and smack at Calum’s legs, shaking forcefully like that’ll get him off. “How are you doing this? Why?”

“Just let me talk about my feelings,” Calum pouts. He weaves a web from his wrist around Michael’s chest to better secure himself. Michael huffs at the sight of the web. He must realize he’s stuck with a next to weightless spider webbed to his back, because he bends down, snatches his purse up, and starts storming down the street again, walking this time. 

Calum snuggles into his neck, just to get punched in the nose. It cracks. It bleeds, Michael’s suit is red, so it doesn’t show. 

“I got light headed when you bent down,” Calum tells him honestly.

Michael scoffs again. “When was the last time you ate? I read in one of the comics that you have a fast metabolism. Also that Andrew Garfield played you in a gay way.”

“I like that,” Calum admits, even though he has no idea what any of that means. “I like Andrew Garfield, is he still dating that actor dude?”

“He’s not gay in the other reality and I’m really just stuck in this one,” Michael tells him. 

“I don’t like that,” Calum admits. Michael rolls his eyes and heads in the direction of a small diner on the corner of the block they’re on. Calum’s starting to relax, which is clearly a mistake. The second he lets his guard down, Michael spins in a circle multiple times at top speed. Calum manages to cling with one arm, but the other flies off and he starts to panic. 

Calum doesn’t have the time to regain his grasp before he feels Michael shift and then there’s a sharp pain rips through his rips. His first instinct is to get away from the pain, so he does, leaping back and landing flat on his ass, kicking his feet out to keep Michael away.

“You son of a bitch!” He yells, glancing down. The handle of a cheap knife if sticking out of his red suit. “You stabbed me!” 

When he looks up again, Michael is already a block away and still sprinting. There’s a twenty dollar bill in front of him. Supposedly for the diner he’s sprawled on the sidewalk in front of. Groaning, Calum decides its best to give up and slumps further into the concrete. He allows himself a few seconds of laying, before grabbing the knife handle and breathing heavily. He phsyces himself up for a moment, then rips it out and tosses it aside. The blood covered knife clatters to the ground and splatters drops of red against the pale sidewalk.

Calum counts to ten, then reaches down and feels his skin and suit have already sealed shut. The thought just reminds him of how ingenious his self healing suit is. The suit his boyfriend had made. He pouts.

Grumbling, Calum hefts his sore body up and brushes himself off. He snatches the money off the ground and stomps into the diner in front of him. 

Calum gets a good meal in him and drinks plenty of water (coffee) because he’s an adult, then leaves the cash on his table and sulks out onto the streets again. It’s getting dark, so he figures he should head home. His mind is filled with possible scenarios and fixes for how to find Ashton, any possible clues or leads he could have dropped, while he trudged his way through the streets on his way home. He only gets stopped a few times for photos and autographs, and he’s suddenly lucky that he has a full face mask so that he doesn’t have to fake smile. 

He’s a block away, suddenly worried about what he’s going to do when he gets into his empty apartment, when his sensitive hearing picks up an alarm blaring on his right. It’s a typical alarm that would ring when a jewelry store was being robbed, or something. Calum sighs and starts wondering if it’s worth it to swing miles away to stop a robbery of something that’s probably insured. 

Luckily, a quick glance tells him that the alarm is directly across the street in a small convenience store. There’s a little red light flashing behind the counter, but that’s really all Calum can see, the rest of the windows are covered by massive posters. Glancing around, Calum finds there’s no one around that could possibly assume he’s just going to fight any damn crime he sees, and considers just continuing on his way home. 

Unfortunately, when he looks back at the small store, his eyes meet the cashiers. 

“God damn it,” he mutters. He scowls, mimes pushing up his sleeves, and starts stalking toward the blaring alarm. The big brown eyes staring back at him look relieved. 

Calum pushes into the store, Bell jingling at his arrival, and mutters,”Alright….” hes about to go into his “Crime Is Bad” speech, when he notices it’s just Michael on his side of the counter. He’s got a knife pointed at the cashier, whose hands are up next to his head, shaking slightly. Calum slumps and says, “Oh. It’s just you.”

“Just me?” Michael scoffs. “I’m robbing a store and all I get is a bored tone? Come on!”

There’s a clatter next to him, so Calum spins around and finds Luke trying on a pair of round sunglasses, leaning back and down to look at himself in the small mirror on the rack full of other glasses. “Hey, do you like-“ he cuts off when he looks over and sees Calum in the doorway. “Oh, hey! How’s it going?”

“It’d be better if he wasn’t committing crimes,” Calum shrugs, nodding his head towards Michael. Luke shrugs like he has no part in the robbery taking place and starts fiddling with the glasses on his face again. 

The alarm is still blaring. The cashier looks confused and still terrified. Michael throws the knife at Calum. He’s a terrible aim, so it clatters to the floor at his feet, but Calum figures it’s the thought that hat counts. He glances down at it, then back over to Michael with what he hopes is an unimpressed eye squint. 

“A distraction!” Michael shouts. “Luke, go!” 

Luke shrugs again and shuffles over to the door, patting Calum’s shoulder as he leaves. He’s all the way out by the time Calum realizes he’d still been wearing the sunglasses. Before he can say anything, Michael bolts pasts him, shoving into him and sending him stumbling back onto the floor, more pain flowering from his ribs again. He assumes it’s an after effect of the stabbing until Michael runs out and he has time to look down. 

Calum grabs the knife stuck in his side and shouts, “Stop stabbing me! I’m sad!”

There’s a soft, “Oh, he’s sad,” from Luke outside, but no other condolences offered from the pair. Calum grunts as he rips the knife from his skin, then quickly applies pressure to the fresh, already healing wound. He throws the knife down next to the other knife still on the ground and scowls. 

When he stands up, he digs into his pocket and pulls out a ten dollar bill. Carefully, he sets it on the rack where the sunglasses had been and nods at the cashier, whose hands are still up. He looks terribly confused. 

Calum flees the scene.


	10. Claw My Way Out Through These Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Young Blood by The Naked and Famous!! They’re talking to their lawyers rn

There are few things that can distract Calum when he’s deep in thought. One is Ashton, usually, who has a terrible habit of seemingly waiting patiently until Calum starts getting carried away in his mind before saying something. It was usually a voiced thought, a phrase that only mattered to the point of getting Calum out of his head and back into the real world. Now, Ashton is gone, and Calum’s been stuck in his head for a day and a half. He’s laying in bed, water bottle in hand, moving his other slowly to place small pieces of granola in his mouth while his thoughts run rampant. 

He’s stuck in a loop of what if Ashton had woken me up before he left and what if I’d woken when Ashton had left when he’s pulled abruptly from his head and shoved back down to earth. His heart is pounding in his chest, beating against his already sore ribs, as cold air rushes to his warm, fuzzy brain. He freezes in place with his fingers covered in granola, halfway to his mouth. Whatever had pulled him out of his haze seems silent now, apart from footsteps thudding in the distant stairwell. His neighbors coming home.

He glances at the clock and sees it’s around 6 pm, they’re probably getting off work and rushing home for dinner. There’s a soft patter of rain against his window and a low rumble of thunder from outside. But that’s usual. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about the noise, so he doesn’t know what could have possibly woken him so abruptly. He senses danger, but he doesn’t know what danger. 

Maybe his connection with Ashton has suddenly decided to work and alert him to something going wrong. But he can’t feel the typical tugging in his chest that comes with his spidey senses. 

Calum sits up and bed and looks around, trying to observe every sound his ears can bring at once. Nothing sounds unusual. Nothing is alerting him to anymore danger. After a few minutes of listening, he figures it must have been some sort of hoax and rubs his hand down his face. 

Since he’s already out of his head, he stands and stretches, first reaching towards the sky and then touching his toes. He’s thinking about making his way towards the shower, twisting his body to the left in an unlikely attempt to crack his back. His fingers reach under his shirt and rub over the two small bumps on his side from Michael’s damn knives. 

When he stretches right, he closes his eyes to try to wake up a little more, but opens them up when he hears a soft scraping from the hall. Behind him, a figure is standing in the doorway, whole body heaving, droplets of water dropping off the big hoodie and sweatpants. A flash of lightning catches soft wisps of red hair and Calum breaths a soft sigh of relief.

“What the fuck do you want?” He mutters. 

Michael throws the hood off his head when he realizes he’s been spotted, splattering raindrops over the framed photos lining the walls of the hallway. His eyes are wide and focused, he’s not wearing his suit. Calum rarely sees his skin, so he flinches automatically at the sight of the red bumps and flaws. Someone must have died for him to take off his suit and come all the way across town without it. 

“Y’alright?” Calum drawls softly. He slowly turns to face Michael while thunder rumbles behind them again. 

Michael says nothing, but pulls a flip phone from his pocket and holds it out. Calum looks at him suspiciously because he knows for a fact that Michael owns an iPhone 4 for no reason. Eventually, he takes it, fingers scraping against the bumpy skin of his palm, and opens it slowly. There’s a single photo on the phone screen, so Calum navigates over and clicks it, quickly realizing it’s a video. He presses play and glances up at Michael nervously.

The video starts by showing the plain concrete floor of what Calum recognizes as a warehouse. There’s a few words spoken in a language he doesn’t understand, and then the camera is held shakily on a blurry form of a person Calum immediately identifies as Luke. Luke is handcuffed behind his back with tape over his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he’s shoved forward from behind, big forehead knocking into the camera. 

The cameraman backs up and shows Luke again from the elbows up. Someone wearing a ski mask rips the tape off his face, so Luke spits on their shoes. 

“Man, that hurt,” Luke smacks his lips and shoots a glare at someone out of the shot. Calum’s fingers tighten around the small phone.

“Shut up and do what we said,” the cameraman demands

Luke sighs heavily, looking more unimpressed than scared. He stares directly into the camera with a bored look at says, “Hey, Calum, I know you’re most likely to be worried about this video, so I’m addressing you, um-“ Luke’s eyes flicker to the left as he says, “Anyway, don’t come looking for us, if your do, they’ll kill me dead or something, blah, blah, blah, I’m collateral, we’re in a warehouse-“ 

Luke is shoved with the barrel of a rifle, forcing him to stumble to the side a little. The camera pans too far to follow him and shows a blurry, side angle of Ashton, clearly duck taped to a chair, mouth set into a thin line. Luke looks up at the camera for a moment and Calum understands. He’d gotten himself shoved on purpose. Specifically so that they would see what he sees. 

“Do it,” the man behind the camera says. The camera is dropped, so it’s only showing the concrete floor, and a loud, unmistakable gunshot shakes the small speakers of the flip phone. Ashton screams in the back, and a drop of blood splatters the camera. The video cuts off.

Calum stares at the phone clutched in his hand. It’s showing the thumbnail from the video, again. After taking a few, deep breaths, he looks up and catches Michael’s eye again. He was right, Michael had been shaken to the core.

“How did you get this?” Calum asks softly. Like he’s trying not to scare Michael. Thunder cracks outside, louder than before, the storm must be closer. The rain pounds harder against the bedroom window.

“I need to take a shower,” Michael replies.

Calum nods because he really couldn’t believe it when Ashton was gone, either. They part ways and Calum goes to the kitchen to make coffee. His hair is greasy, he thinks the last time he’d showered had been the night Ashton had gone missing. 

Calum rubs his head and digs around to find the can of coffee and jar of sugar. He starts making it and sits at the breakfast bar, tapping the fingers of his right hand against the marble countertops and resting his chin in his left palm. He’s not sure how much time passes as he stares blankly at his tapping fingers, but the coffee is done by the time Michael comes back out. Without saying anything, Michael shifts around and pours two mugs of coffee and fills the half of the second mug with sugar. He hands it over to Calum silently.

Something’s been bothering Calum, and the fact the Michael’s never seen him make coffee but seems to know exactly how he likes it simply amplifies the thought. 

“Can I ask you something?” Calum asks. Michael looks at him from over the counter, but says nothing. “Why did you come here?”

Michael’s wearing one of Ashton’s old, dirty hoodies, which had been buried way back in the closet, and a pair of Calum’s shorts, making him wonder how long Michael had dug around their closet, but he doesn’t ask. He looks warm and soft with the hood pulled around his scarred face. Michael looks away from him and tugs at the strings of his hoodie.

“So, you know how I sometimes say stuff about the other realities?” He asks.

Calum nods. He hates when Michael makes offhand comments about other realities that Calum doubts he’s seen. 

Michael shrugs and sips his coffee. “I can- I don’t know, I see most other realities and, and planes, and whatever. Universes. I can switch between them, sometimes. But I have to always be myself in that reality, so I can’t do anything too out of the ordinary. I spent a really long time going through them.” 

He pauses and looks up almost nervously, or some kind hearted emotion that Calum’s never really seen his face make. 

“When did we meet?” He asks.

Calum doesn’t even have to think about it. “I saw you murdering an old lady and I had to stop you. Like, five years ago? I was still in high school.” 

“A baby,” Michael mutters. A half smile plays on his lips for a second, before he hides it behind his steaming coffee. “Anyway, I’ve known you for millions of years. Not- not consecutively, but in the other realities, I’ve known you for millions of years. I can’t even count them. I’ve known Ashton for about 2,500, Luke for 5,600, but you-“ he cuts off for a second, then says, “In every reality, the one consistent thing in my millions of lives is you.”

Calum doesn't know what to say to that, so he spits out the first thing that comes to his mind. “Which me is your favorite?”

“Not this one,” Michael replies immediately. Calum scoffs at him, scowling as he grabs his coffee and takes a gulp of the sugary mess. It burns his throat, but Michael just smirks at him. “There’s one where you’re a designer and I’m a famous actor that wears your clothes. I like that one, because we all know I love when people lust after me.”

Calum rolls his eyes. “That’s your favorite me?”

“Of course not,” Michael starts moving around the kitchen, bare feet shuffling on the heated tile, as he digs around the cabinets for something. Calum suspects its to avoid looking at him. “That’s just one reality. There’s one where I’m a pen salesmen, we meet at a bar everyday after work. One where you’re homeless and I take you in, one where we’re in a band, one where we meet in Japan while really drunk and get married, there’s realities all over that I always want to share with you because-“ 

He cuts off, moves around a few boxes of pasta, then pauses with his back to Calum.

“Because we’re connected,” he admits. “We’re- I don’t know. It’s hard to explain to someone who can’t experience the feeling. You can’t understand the deep connection I feel to your soul, because we’re always going to be drawn to each other. When there’s trouble, I go to you. I may ignore you, taunt you, murder people to piss you off, but at the end of every day, in every realm, reality, and universe, you’re always going to be my best friend.”

Calum doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t know how to pretend to understand, because it’s hard to comprehend that, not only are there a million different versions of him, but that Michael knows every single one of them. He stays silent while Michael composed himself and begins digging through the cabinets again. Thunder rumbles outside, soft and low, far away like they’ve missed the entire storm. They probably have.

“My favorite you,” Michael says suddenly. Calum looks up to find him turning around with a box of cheez-itz in his hands. Michael points the box at him. “Is the one where you’re just starting out. Our great great grandparents had chosen to have our great grandparents later in life, our great grandparents had chosen to have our grandparents later in life, whatever, so on, but we’re both eight years old right now in this reality. We’ve just met at school. You’re crayon broke in half, so I gave you mine. It’s robins egg blue.” 

Calum automatically smiles at him. “How valiant.” 

“What can I say?” Michael shrugs and pops a cheez-it in his mouth. “I’m a prince.” 

Calum looks down again to play with his coffee mug and hide his soft smile and warm heart. When he looks back up, Michael’s finished his coffee and pulling the flip phone from his pocket.

“Are you loosened up?” He asks. “Happier? Ready to revisit this?”

Calum’s smile disappears and his heart drops low and cold in his chest. He sighs, but nods anyway. It has to be done. It feels like the joy has been sucked from his lungs at the sight of the damn flip phone being turned over and over in Michael’s hand.

“Okay,” Michael replies. “Luke was gone at work all day. I stayed home- you know, to catch up on my telenovelas.”

Any traces of the soft, happy, not annoying Michael from a different universe are completely gone, as Calum watches him shovel any snack within a thirty foot radius into his mouth with his free hand.

“So, a smoke bomb is tossed through my window,” Michael continues through a mouthful of- are those wheat thins? Calum was unaware that he’d previously been the proud owner of a box of wheat thins. “I’m like, freaking out, because Rosa was about to shove her 90 year old husband down a steep ramp. So, I turn on all the fans, I throw the smoke bomb out the window, I febreze that shit, and when the smoke clears, this phone is on Luke’s side of the bed.” 

Calum reaches for it and starts flipping it open and shut, staring down at it like he’s never seen a flip phone before. “You never saw anything?”

“Not a thing,” Michael confirms. “When the smoke cleared, Rosa’s husband had been shot. But how, that’s the question.” 

“No it’s not,” Calum opens the phone completely, but doesn’t select the video just yet. He’s not ready to watch it again. He stares at it for a moment, then glances up and locks eyes with Michael. “You’ll help me?”

Michael looks at the phone with a certain softness in his eyes, then nods. “I’ll help you.”


	11. I’d Get On My Knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from church by fall out boy

“Bible?” Luke throws his head back and stares at the ceiling. “I’m genuinely going to kill myself.”

He’s bored. Who can blame him? He’s going out of his mind with boredom, sitting in his chair in the big, empty warehouse. His legs are spread as far as they’ll go, he checks his chipping red nails lazily, then rolls his head over to look at Ashton, curls falling in his face messily. Ashton gives him a murderous look.

“What?” Luke lifts his head a bit so he looks less like a broken doll and blinks. 

Ashton somehow manages to glare at him harder. “You’re really not going to untie me?” He demands. 

The kidnappers hadn’t bothered tying Luke up, but they’d told him to sit in the chair and shut up, so that’s what he’d been doing. There’s no one else in the room, all the guards are outside or in separate rooms off the side of the massive main room of the warehouse. As soon as they’d filmed their video and left, Luke had sat and waited patiently, like something else was going to happen. Ashton hadn’t specifically asked to be untied, nor had he shown any major discomfort.

They’ve been sitting in silence for fifteen minutes. 

Luke raises his hand questioningly and purses his lips. “Do you… want me to?” 

“Yes!” Ashton just about launches himself out of the plastic lawn chair, but the restraints tying his hands behind his back and his ankles to the legs of the chair stop him. The chair does, however, shift about a foot in Luke’s direction. “Yes! Obviously! I’ve been stuck here for days, Luke! Obviously I want you to untie me!”

“Alright!” Luke holds up his hands innocently. “Jeez, don’t bite my head off.” 

“You’re so stupid!” Ashton replies. “Why did they bring you here?! I don’t want you here, they couldn’t have kidnapped Michael at the very least?!” 

Luke scoffs. “Buddy, you’re not helping your case.” 

“Come on!” Ashton makes a frustrated noise and starts squirming in his chair again. Like if he tries to rip his shoulder out of its socket, he’ll somehow get out of the ropes holding him. 

Luke notices the bags under his eyes and says, “I’m glad that you and Calum respond to the other disappearing in opposite ways. You have too many emotions and he lost all of his.”

Ashton visibly droops at that, shoulders falling and eyes growing sad. And,alright, now Luke feels bad. He hadn’t meant to make Ashton sad, but it was the truth. 

“Is he okay?” Ashton asks gently. “How close is he to finding us? How many of my clues did he find?”

Luke’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Clues? You left clues?”

“Are you kidding me?!” Ashton tries and fails to leap out of his chair again. The sudden, loud volume of his voice makes Luke jump and shrink back in his chair. “Of course I left clues! I left millions of clues! You haven’t found a single fucking one?!” 

Luke is hesitant to answer. Ashton looks wild enough to murder him with his bare hands, so Luke isn’t too sure he should untie him just yet. He wonders how much sleep Ashton gotten In the past four days. Judging by the bags under his eyes and the wild look glittering along his face, about two hours. 

Luke reaches a hand out towards Ashton carefully, like he’s protecting himself from a monster. “Um, none? I don’t-“ 

“None?!” Ashton lurches forward again, but the chair decides its had enough abuse for the day and tips sideways, sending him falling sideways and tumbling to the ground. Luke tries to help by pretending that he’s going to catch him and then mumbling something under his breath when he doesn’t. Ashton lands on the floor sideways and screeches like a fucking banshee, kicking his feet out wildly until one leg breaks loose so he can slam the bottom of his foot into Luke’s shin. 

“Ow!” Luke leaps up and stumbles back, away from where Ashton is losing his damn mind of the ground, and bends over to rub his shin. He frowns at his poor leg, then looks up in time to see Ashton break his other leg free. He backs up on instinct.

Ashton screams again and lurches himself up off the ground shakily, chair and arms still tied around his back. He sets his wild, devilish eyes on Luke again and screeches so loud it shakes the floor. Luke assumes. It does echo, however, hundreds of screams bouncing off the walls and making Luke’s ears hurt. He covers them just as Ashton starts running at him with a fever. 

Luke bolts, but he seems to have a significant amount of energy compared to Ashton, who is probably fueling himself on anger alone. 

“Are you crazy?!” Luke cries as he runs from Ashton in a zig zag pattern. The best way to dodge things. He doesn’t have to go too fast, because Ashton keeps stumbling and tripping over fold out chair legs. 

“I told you exactly where I was!” Ashton yells. “I left you fucking idiots so many clues! And you didn’t find a single fucking one!” 

“We’re stupid!” Luke agrees. He glances over his shoulder as Ashton trips again and sprawls across the ground, then slumps like he’s giving up. Luke is suspicious. He stops running, but waits to approach Ashton until he sees the curly haired scientist squirm in his restraints and then slump into the concrete floor again. Assuming he can’t get up, Luke slowly approaches him, one arm in front of him like that’ll stop Ashton. 

He creeps up until he’s within a foot of Ashton and he still hasn’t moved from his spot on the floor. Slowly, Luke bends down and opens his mouth to speak, but quickly shuts it when he notices Ashton’s eyes are closed. His mouth is smushed against the ground, but he manages to let out a soft snore that makes Luke scoff. 

“What the hell?” He mumbles to himself. Ashton’s gone from screaming angry to fast asleep in five seconds. Luke stares at him for a moment, before untying his arms and tossing the chair away. The loud clatter doesn’t wake Ashton up, so Luke figures it’s fair to assume he hasn’t slept in days. 

Luke walks around slowly while Ashton sleeps, observing the big, empty warehouse with calculating eyes. When Ashton was taken, he’d been asleep, so he probably hadn’t done his most scientific work when searching for an escape. Luke, however, had been at work in an actual lab for 8 hours before he was snatched off the streets. He’s at his peak for calculating thought process. 

He walks around and observes every single brick and scab of mortar holding him in the place. There’s two doors with small windows on opposite sides of the room, like can see two guards standing outside of each of them, dressed in heavy bulletproof gear and wielding large weapons. Luke spends a moment eyeing them through the thick glass before he moves on.

Five doors lead off into separate side rooms, but only one is unlocked. It’s a large bathroom, complete with a shower and toilet, but no sink. They plan on keeping them here a while, Luke decides. The other four doors are locked with several bolts, so Luke can’t jimmy his way in to see what’s being held behind the doors.

The only thing that seems out of the ordinary for the big warehouse, is the window on the left wall, showing Luke a bridge with a homeless man burning a fire in a trash can beneath it. Behind him is completely dark, besides for the dark highway that Luke can’t see the end or the beginning of. There seems to be nothing else around.

By the time Ashton wakes up, Luke is sitting in his chair in the middle of the room again, rubbing at the stubble on his face, deep in thought. Ashton literally crawls over to him on his hands and knees and whispers, “What are you doing?”

“Good morning,” Luke replies. It’s light outside, and the homeless man is gone, but his fire is still smoking in the barrel. 

Ashton glances outside, then looks back at Luke. “You know exactly where we are, don’t you?”

Luke is frustrated, but he nods anyway. They pass this building all the time. Michael knows the homeless man well, well enough to share fires with him on occasion. Luke is extremely frustrated, because he has no way to get any word out, in order to tell Michael where they are. 

“I’m pissed,” Luke admit. “That’s Roger.”

“That’s Roger,” Ashton agrees, staring out the window at the smoldering bin. He’d met Roger on the rare occasion he happened to be with Michael or Luke when the man walked past. He seems to have accepted how frustrating the situation is, but Luke’s still thinking. Trying and failing to figure out a way out. 

Ashton lets him think and goes back to grab his chair off the ground. He sets it a few feet away from Luke and sits, starting to fiddle with his fingers in his lap. 

Luke looks at him. “What’d you do in here for four days?” 

Ashton snorts and shakes his head. “I had work.” 

“Work?” Luke asks. Ashton doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, staring off into the distance like he’s thinking deeply about something, so Luke decides to let it go. He goes back to considering how they can possibly get a message (or themselves) out. He’s considering waiting until Michael walks past and then just whipping the metal fold up chair through the window when the door leading to one of the side rooms opens up with a creak. 

No one enters or exits, no guards bust in like it was a mistake, and Ashton just sighs. 

“It’s on a timer,” he says. 

“A timer?” Luke echos. He stares at the wide open door. It’s the one directly next to the sinkless bathroom. “Hey, where have you been washing your hands?”

Ashton turns to look at him like he’s the one that’s been losing his mind. “The toilet,” he deadpans.

“Are you lying?” Luke squints at him suspiciously. “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“Yes!” Ashton huffs. He throws his hands in the air like he’s cursing god, then lets them drop into his lap like he’s physically giving up. “The shower, Luke, obviously the shower!”

“Alright!” Luke holds his hands up in defense. They’re silent for a few minutes, neither of them making a move towards the open door, while Luke kicks one foot over his knee and starts shaking it. Finally, Luke mumbles, “Hey, what do you think Michael and Calum are doing?”

“I would hope looking for us,” Ashton replies. There’s an angry tone to his voice that Luke thinks he should resent. “Have they even called the cops, yet?”

Luke pauses. The thought really never crossed his mind. He supposes Ashton is a normal person, however. If he or Michael had gone missing, the cops either wouldn’t take them seriously, or they’d reply with a hearty, “Good!” He frowns and says, “Huh.” 

“You’re idiots,” Ashton says forcefully. 

The open room is starting to get on Luke’s nerves, but if Ashton had been losing his mind in this room and clearly did not want to go into the new room, whatever was in there couldn’t be good. Luke figures it’s not a fully stocked kitchen. Or a bedroom. 

“Hey,” Luke nudges Ashton with his elbow, so Ashton shifts his entire chair a few inches away from Luke. “Hey, do you think our boyfriends are fucking? There’s a lot of tension there.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Ashton throws his head back and rubs his temples like Luke’s mere presence has given him a migraine. “It has to be you that got kidnapped. They couldn’t take Michael? He’s at least stupid enough to murder his way out of this mess! Or Calum, he’d try to save me! No, I got stuck with your stupid ass!” 

“Rude!” Luke scoffs. He crosses his arms and turns his whole body away from Ashton. Unfortunately, his back is sore and his legs hurt and he’s tired and getting hungry, so his resolve lasts about two minutes before he gives in and leans against the back rest of the chair again. Ashton continues scowling and saying nothing, so Luke offers, “It was a genuine question.”

“I don’t know!” Ashton groans. “I really don’t know if they’re fucking, Luke! I’d hope not!” 

Luke considers it, but eventually says, “I hope they are. Or having a heart to heart, at the very least. I know you know there’s tension between them.”

“Because Michael’s a fucking idiot!” Ashton laughs almost hysterically, but mostly humorlessly, and rubs his legs. 

Luke scoffs again. “He’s stupid, but he’s not idiot!” 

Ashton lays off his legs and rubs and hand down his face. When he pulls his head back up, he looks at the door and shouts, “Hey! Come take Luke back, I don’t want him here!” 

“Oh, shut up,” Luke replies. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be tied to your chair!”

“I’d prefer that!” Ashton tells him forcefully, leveling him with an annoyed glare. “At least then I wouldn’t have to talk to you!” 

Luke makes an offended noise and says, “Shut your mouth, I’m a delight!” 

“Help!” Ashton yells, loud enough for the guards to hear. He tosses his head back again and yells, “Help!” at the rafters. It echos, but so does the shush Luke shoots him with. 

The door directly in front of them that leads to the outside opens and a guard shoved his head through the crack. Luke squints at the sunlight. The man paints at the other open door and simply says, “now.” 

Ashton crosses his arms and looks away petulantly. Luke stares at him, then shrugs at the guard innocently. He’s new here, he shouldn’t have to be held accountable for his actions. 

“Ashton!” The guard yells. “Go, now!” 

Ashton huffs and stands up, hands clutched into little balls at his side. The guard watches him march halfway across the warehouse before he stops, realizing Luke isn’t still behind him. He looks back and nods his head to the now open room. “Come on,” he looks angry. “I’ll show you why we were kidnapped.”

Luke hops out of his chair and follows obediently.


	12. You See, I Know Your Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Something to believe in by young the giant!!!

Michael marches around the living room for two hours, various drink and several pieces of candy somehow appearing in his hand continuously, before he gets an idea. 

Calum’s sitting in the love seat, pillow on his lap, laptop on his pillow, searching the web (pun intended) for any information as to Ashton’s whereabouts. He’s just typing in “Track someone else’s iPhone when you’re not a stalker and just want to find someone for an unrelated non stalking reason,” when Michael stops dead in his tracks and yells, “Got it!”

Calum jumps, then scrambles for his laptop as it starts to slide off his lap and towards the floor. “What?” He asks quickly as he backspaces. “What do you have?”

“An idea!” Michael has a pixy stick in his hand. Calum has no idea where he’d gotten it. He closes his laptop and sets it aside, pulling his legs up onto the couch to give Michael his full attention. “The other realities!” 

“The what?” Calum blinks at him. His mind slowly catches up to the comment as he remembers Michael explaining other realities to him. He tacks on, “What about them?”

“Okay, so,” Michael holds out a hand like he’s going to explain something terribly, so Calum sighs and braces himself. “Anytime you’ve ever made a decision, you stick with the decision you made. Another version of you breaks off, makes the other decision, and becomes a completely different reality. Get it?”

Calum stares at him, but he’s tired and sad and a little bit agitated that he hasn’t found any information regarding a kidnapping that supposedly took place in his own home. 

“No,” he admits.

Michael sighs at him, like Calum’s the entire issue here. “Okay, for example- let’s say, you were given the choice to take the elevator or the stairs. You chose the stairs, but another part of you chose the elevator and broke off, so there’s an entire reality out there that exists because of that one, tiny choice. It broke off and became exactly the same, except you didn’t take the stairs.” 

“Seems pointless,” Calum admits.

“Oh, extremely,” Michael nods, then throws his head back and takes a long shot of his pixy stick. When he speaks again, he spits blue sugar all over the carpet. “I’m not in charge, I just visit. Anyway, there’s a bunch of realities where Ashton and Luke get kidnapped, as they have, but they or the kidnappers made small decisions, so there’s thousands.”

“Okay,” Calum says slowly. “So…?”

“So,” Michael tosses the candy in the general direction of the kitchen and misses by about four feet. Calum’s apartment is disgusting at this point. “We can visit a couple and see what information we can get to help our investigation. The other Michael’s and Calum’s can help us find them.”

Calum squints at him. “You just don’t want to do any of the work.”

“They already did it for us, why should we have to do it?!” Michael’s voice immediately gets high pitched and defensive. But, he makes a good point.

“Have you ever done that?” Calum asks. “Take someone with you, I mean? Can I even go with you?”

“Sure!” Michael is holding a tiny box of nerds when Calum makes the stupid mistake of looking away from him for half a second. “Luke goes with me all the time, but we have to be careful, because not every single me knows every single him. So if we accidentally land in a reality where I don’t know him, I have to go find him, or he’s stuck there. We have created so many new realities because of that.”

“Ugh,” Calum says intelligently. 

Michael shrugs and dumps all of the nerds into his mouth at once. When he’s finished crunching as loud as humanly possibly, he tosses the box and says, “Come on, you have to be standing. It’s a rule.”

“Are there any other rules I should know about?” Calum asks as he stands up and faces Michael.

“Yeah, don’t die,” Michael grabs his shoulder and closes his eyes. “By the way, I haven’t done this for like two years. Also, I’m bad at it. I’m sure we’ll be fine, don’t worry about it!”

Calum scoffs and starts to protest, but he’s cut off by what feels like a crackle of electricity curling around each of the bones in his spine, followed by an eerily similar sound in the otherwise quiet room. The next thing Calum knows, he’s sitting on a rock with tiny pebbles in his hand, seagulls crying in the blue sky overhead. 

He glances down at the water below him, frowning deeply and checking over his hands in confusion. Everything seems normal, other than the fact that Michael has disappeared and he is a little bit soggy and shirtless. And then he looks to his right. And screams.

There’s a fucking mermaid tail attached to his waist. He manages to flip around on the rock in a panic, and quickly realizes that he’s in the middle of the ocean and there’s nothing but water surrounding him. 

“Calum?” Michael yells from about thirty years a away. He’s just a red dot in the distance, floating in the water. “Hey, I think I got it wrong!” 

“I have a fucking tail!” Calum screams back. “You made me into a fucking mermaid!” 

He’s afraid to touch the blue-green shift scales that have replaced his legs, but he feels compelled to by his annoying intrusive thoughts. After a second of hyping himself up, he darts forward and pokes his stupid tail. It’s slimy. He’s a fish. 

“Oh my god,” he rips his hand away and cradles it against his chest, still staring at where his legs should be. At least he seems to have great abs in this reality. 

It takes nothing but a few seconds for Michael to swim over and float at the top of the water, clinging to the rock, with a scowl on his face. “Alright, this seems wrong. Let’s go.”

Calum is quick to reach down and clamp onto his shoulder with an iron grip. The same electricity cracks and pulls down his spine, while Calum squeezes his eyes shut. 

He’s hesitant to open them, but feels like he has to when he hears a steady beeping. He’s in a hospital room, bright light shining through the window on his right, with bandages wrapped around his arms and legs. There’s something clinging to his face, so he pays around until he determines it’s an eye patch. 

He tries to pull it up, but he can’t seem to open his eye, and everything goes dark when he closes his other eye. The heart monitor picks up a bit when Calum touches his closed eye and feels the eyelid shift inwards. 

He doesn’t have an eye.

He does, however, have a pounding headache and three IV drips feeding into his arm. 

He grabs his head, pressing the edge of his palms into his temples, and scowls at the bright light coming in through the closed blinds. It takes a few seconds for his heart rate to slow, only to pick back up again when the door doings open. His head pounds. 

Michael walks in dressed in nice clothes and a lab coat, it Calum is having a really hard time assuming he’s supposed to be the doctor here. It really doesn’t seem right. Michael looks him dead in the eye (just the one), then clearly lights up and snatches the chart from the end of the bed. 

After flipping through it, he says, “Ah! You’re dying!”

“From what?” Calum looks at the bandages on his arms and legs suspiciously.

Michael seems overjoyed as he snaps the chart shut and excitedly tells him, “hundreds of parasitic worms!”

Calum screeches at him and tries to launch himself up, but finds his legs don’t work, anymore. The thought of worms crawling around his body makes his skin itchy. Michael reaches towards him, so Calum snatches his hand. He’s thrilled to feel his spine being pulled apart by sparks.

When the buzzing of electricity dies down, Calum blinks a few times to make sure he has both eyes and no headache. He’s overjoyed to find he has two eyes, a clear head, and two working legs. No tail. No worms. He glances under the table he seems to be sitting at to make sure he can see both of his feet. 

He’s wearing his fancy shoes under the thick tablecloth. 

“Uh oh,” he mutters to himself automatically. When he glances up, he finds he’s still holding Michael’s hand, tenderly instead of angrily this time, but they’re sitting across from each other over a candlelit table. Michael blinks at him. 

“Are we on a date?” Calum demands.

“We do seem to be on a date,” Michael furrows his eyebrows and snatches up a piece of bread from the basket under their joined hands. “Can you just- don’t scream in this one. Just shut up and let me focus.”

“Fine,” Calum rips his hand away, so Michael reaches across the table and smacks his wrist forcefully. Calum glares at him and holds in any type of scream.

He munches on warm bread for a moment, before Michael wraps fingers around his wrist and yanks him almost completely across the table. Calum leaps out of his chair and starts falling while lightning buzzes in his ears and through his body again. 

When he lands, it’s on tile floor with his hands held out in front of him. He growls and stands up, struggling and slipping because he seems to be wearing soft pink ballet shoes for some reason. Also, a matching cocktail dress. When he gets up and dusts himself off, he whips around to find Michael in a matching blue dress.

Michael looks down at himself and scowls. “Wrong.”

“Closer,” Calum shrugs as he glances around the empty ballet studio. He has all of his body parts, this time. And he’s not on a date. 

“Shut up,” Michael grabs his shoulder and buzzes the two of them into the next reality. Calum allows himself to blink, standing in the ballet studio in a dress one second, then sitting on the couch in a strange looking living room the next. He’s on a couch with Luke, who has his legs spread wide, sparkley, Heeled boots on his big feet, while he scrolls through his phone, lazily. 

Calum’s mouth drops open a little at the sight of him, like he’d completely forgotten what Luke looks like. He looks glittery in this reality. Luke glances up at him and says, “What, mate?” 

Calum blinks at him and says, “Don’t tell me You’re Australian in this one-“ he slaps a hand over his mouth when he hears his own accent and quickly tacks on, “Oh no.” 

“What are you talking about?” Luke asks. He locks his phone and sets it on his stomach, like he has to urgently figure out what the hell Calum’s talking about. “You alright?” 

“Shrimp on the Barbie,” Calum replies. Luke stares at him in confusion. “Oh my god, I’m loving this. I sound so stupid. Luke, mate, you sound so stupid.”

“What?” Luke looks even more confused. Calum loses interest in the worried features spreading across his big dumb face and starts looking around again. Michael is sitting in a fold out chair a few feet away, watching them interact almost nervously, with a guitar in his lap. He’s gripping the neck of it tightly, letting his other hand rest on top of it. Like he’s just stopped playing. 

“I like this one,” Calum tells him honestly. “Have you got an accent? Listen to me, I’m like British, but worse.”

“I think I have,” Michael seems mildly annoyed to find that he does, but Calum’s starting to find it hard to read him. He looks frustrated, but willing to play this out and see what happens. 

Calum hums in delight and glances around some more. A mini fridge houses some alcoholic beverages and waters, while various fruit is scattered across the countertop it’s placed on. There’s a small drum kit in the corner, so Calum stands up and rushes over. 

He catches Luke shake his head and pick up his phone with an eyeroll. “What?” Calum searches around until he can find an abandoned drumstick to grab.

“You better not mess with it again,” Luke warns. “Ash is going to get pissed off.” 

It takes a second to set in. Michael understands first, as he lets out a low, “Spidey…” in a gentle warning tone. 

“Wait, Ash as in-“ Calum looks over at Luke again. “Ash- you mean-“ 

As if on cue, the door opens and Ashton wanders in with a Coke in his hand. “I found one, but,” he glances up and looks directly at Michael like they’re good friends or something. “No straws.” 

Calum drops the drumstick in shock, which makes Ashton look over to him in surprise. Ashton fixes him with a piercing, almost chastising glare, and shakes his head, but Calum can’t find it in him to stop staring at the Golden curls on his head or the way his hand fits around the can. 

“What are you doing?” Ashton demands, sounding like he’s half joking. “Not messing with my shit, yeah?”

“No,” Calum doesn’t know if he’s answering the question or if he just doesn’t know what to say. Across the room, Michael stands up and holds a hand out towards Calum like he’s approaching a startled horse or something. Calum assumes, anyway, he can only see out of the corner of his eye as he still can’t look away from the man that’s been missing from his life for a week. 

Ashton’s face goes from slightly annoyed to concerned, eyes soft and comforting, shoulders dropping a bit. “Y’Alright, mate?” He asks.

Calum can’t stop himself, he bolts forwards as Michael shouts for him to stop, and grabs Ashton by the shoulders, looking him over, because he can’t believe this is real. He can’t believe there’s an Ashton standing in front of him. It’s not his Ashton, who has a chipped bottom tooth and a scar over his left eyebrow, but it’s an Ashton. It’s any Ashton. 

“You poor thing,” Ashton giggles at him and scoops him up in a hug like Calum’s messing with him. He’s warm and soft and absolutely everything Calum remembers, even smelling the same. Ashton places a hand behind his head and cards his fingers through his hair soothingly, making gentle tutting noises. 

Calum lets out a choked sob as his emotions build and spill over. Ashton seems to determine the situation is a lot more serious than he’d originally assumed, so he holds Calum a little tighter and whispers, “It’s okay, you’re okay,” over and over as Calum cries. 

After a few minutes, Calum stops completely sobbing, so Ashton peels away and looks at him curiously. “What happened? Are you feeling okay, man?” 

“You’re here,” Calum tells him, like he has a clue what that means. “You’re real, you’re here, you came back.”

Ashton laughs and his eyes crinkle. “I just went to get Michael a coke, you know that.” 

Calum twists his neck and catches sight of Michael sitting down with an unimpressed glare on his face, directed at Calum. 

Ashton quirks an eyebrow innocently and tells Michael, “Calm down, I’ve got your soda. He’s upset, let me be delayed, you little shit.” 

Calum clings to him, so Ashton shakes the can behind his back. Michael sighs heavily.

“We have to go,” he says to Calum. 

“No!” Calum says in a panic, clinging tighter to Ashton. “You can’t make me, I won’t!” 

“Go?” Luke echoes from the couch. “What’s wrong with you two, why are you acting so weird? And where do you have to go?” 

“We’re from a different reality,” Michael says bluntly. “We’re just borrowing some bodies while we look for something. The Luke and Ashton in our reality are missing, so Calum’s having a stroke.”

“What?” Luke blinks at him.

Ashton looks at Calum very seriously and says, “That sounds awful, poor baby,” and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear.

“I haven’t seen you for a week,” Calum tells him. He figures if they’re telling the truth, he might as well stick with it. 

Luke says, “Wait, what?” 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Michael sighs at him, but it’s fond and gentle and Calum really does feel his pain. He shakes his head and looks at Calum again. “Unhand That man. Time passes in our reality at the same speed.”

Calum shakes his head and ducks his face into Ashton’s neck to sniff at him. He hadn’t known he’d miss a smell this much. Michael gives him a chastising look, but Calum has made up his mind. He’s staying here, Ashton’s here.

Ashton ruffles his hair again. “What’s you’re reality like?” 

Calum doesn’t know if he’s playing along, maybe his Calum is naturally playful and makes up stories all this time, or if he genuinely believes them. Either way, Calum decides to indulge him. “It’s so nice. I save the city and you’re a scientist and I can shoot webs out of my wrists and I love you more than anything.”

“Sounds kind of gay,” Ashton admits.

Calum nods eagerly. “Incredibly. Spider-Man on a pride float during New York pride? Truly groundbreaking.”

“Hold on, you’re just describing Andrew Garfield’s portrayal of Spider-Man,” Luke says suspiciously. “What the hell are you going on about? Why?”

“Michael’s in love with you,” Calum says, mainly to keep him occupied. 

Luke squawks and gives Michael a somewhat annoyed, slightly soft and gentle look. Michael, unfortunately, is unaffected by the comment and continues to glare at Calum. 

Ashton giggles at that and pets at Calum some more. “Your reality sound fun.”

“It is,” Calum leans closer to him, but Ashton leans away. “Hold on, what’s our dynamic here?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ashton shrugs like he’s really considering it. Like there’s something to consider. “Best friends? We’re in a band together-“

“No homo?” Calum asks.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ashton confirms. Calum eyes him, trying to decide if it’s worth it to have Ashton around if they’re not even mildly interested in each other. On one hand, Calum will pine unsuccessfully and set himself up for endless heartbreak. But, on the other hand, Ashton. 

He considers it, then glances at Michael again. “So, time is passing in ours?”

“Yes!” Michael scoffs. “Obviously, they’re all on the same timeline. Every second we’re here is a second your Ashton is lost and probably getting murdered to death!”

“Now hold on,” Luke holds his big stupid hand out and looks incredibly concerned. “What about your Luke? How’s that guy doing?” 

Michael levels him with an unimpressed look. “Every time you get a headache, a version of you in a different reality has died. Just wait for the headache.”

“I have a headache right now!” Luke says in a panicked voice, whipping his hand up to his temple. 

Michael looks nervous, but quickly changes his features to give Luke a pointed look. 

“I’ve had one for a week,” Ashton shrugs. “Like, a dull, aching headache. Nothing too bad. Must not be dead yet.” 

Calum rips away from him and reaches towards Michael. He can’t stay here when his Ashton is out in their reality getting himself murdered to death. Michael looks pleased and stands up to grab his hand.

Electricity crackles down his spine again and Calum blinks to find a young boy standing in front of him. They’re standing in the backyard of his childhood home, white fence keeping them in. 

The little boy that seems to be Michael looks at him for a second, then says, “Son of a bitch.”

He has a lisp, so Calum giggles, which seems to make Michael even more annoyed. They crackle through time and space three more times, before landing in what looks like Calum’s usual apartment. Everything looks the same, but Calum’s wearing his Spider-Man suit, and Michael’s skin has bumps on it again. 

“I think we’re in a good one,” Michael pauses and glances around. The apartment seems gloomy. “Well, bad. Everything is exactly the same, but Ashton and Luke were murdered by their kidnappers two days in. We just have to figure out how and where.”

Calum starts to panic, because he’d been somehow unaware that this was an outcome. That Luke and Ashton could actually die. He frowns when he notices Michael doesn’t even look slightly concerned, only content and happy to start poking around Calum’s apartment. Other Calum’s apartment. Calum is confused, among other things. 

“Come on,” Michael starts digging through the bookshelf on the wall. Supposedly in search of clues. “Find something interesting. Time is passing in our reality and we should get back soon.”

“Our reality,” Calum mutters as he starts sulking around his own apartment. It feels comfortable but completely foreign at the same time. Like waking up from a deep sleep and stumbling around the place you’ve lived for years, only it feels like the first time you’ve seen it. Calum scowls and says, “Where’s the Calum and Michael from this reality? Are we it?”

“We’re it,” Michael tosses a book across the room. Calum ducks like he’s trying to dodge it, even though it lands ten feet away from him. “We just a jump bodies. They’re our thoughts and brains and whatever, just shoved into different bodies. Our actual bodies get set to auto pilot in our reality, who knows what they’re doing? Probably fucking.” 

“I hate you,” Calum says honestly. Michael throws another book at him, but this one smacks against his chest and falls to the floor with a thud. 

All at once, his head starts pounding, like his brain is suddenly too big for his skull. His first thought is worms. Calum rubs his temples, but the abrupt migraine doesn’t let up in the slightest. He squeezes his eyes shut, then looks up to see Michael rubbing his head, too. His second thought is-

“You gave me worms!” Calum shouts at him accusingly. They both groan at his loud pitch.

“Oh, fuck off,” Michael glares at him, wincing like he’s in pain. “Go look for clues so we can get out of here.” 

“Fuck you,” Calum retaliates. 

He stalks off, somewhat clumsily while he tries to rub his head and close his eyes. He trips into the bedroom to start rooting around his own things, but stops short when he looks up. 

“Uh,” Calum’s staring at himself and it’s not a mirror. “Michael!” 

Directly in front of him, his clone yells the same thing. It throws him off how similar they sound, like an exact replica would have sounded extremely different or something. There’s another Michael digging through his closet. He stops and turns around, blinking between the two Calum’s before breaking into a grin.

“This is great!”

“Shut up,” the other Calum says. “What the fuck is this?”

From the living room, Calum’s Michael (he scowls internally at the thought and decides to call them the Michael from his reality and Michael Two) grunts and yells, “What?”

“Michael get in here!” Calum yells back.

“For what?” 

“For-“ Calum cuts himself off and shoots himself an unimpressed look. The other him seems to share his sentiment. “Don’t question me when I tell you to come here! You can’t whip me around a billion fucking realities and then act like you have the upper hand!” 

“I do!” Michael yells. 

Calum scowls and resists the urge to stomp his foot like a toddler. He whips around and stalks into the hallway until he can see Michael sitting at the kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine and chewing on a chocolate bar. He’s not even breaking off the chunks, he’s just taking bites. 

Calum shoots a web at him and whips his arm back, ripping Michael off his stool and sending both the magazine and chocolate flying while Michael tries to catch himself. He fails and falls to the floor, just barely catching himself with his hands. Calum drags him over in one quick swipe, ignoring how Michael scrambles for and grabs the magazine again.

“You son of a-“ Michael stops in the doorway of the bedroom, then glances up, sees the other Calum and Michael, and says, “Well, son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, son of a bitch,” Calum kicks him in the ribs. But, he’s got too many working emotions, so he feels bad about it and helps Michael up. 

Once he’s standing, Michael glances at his new clone. He seems suspicious, like he doesn’t believe it’s him. Calum has no idea who the fuck he thinks it is. He rubs a hand down his face, while Michael raises one hand up slowly. Unfortunately, Michael Two does the exact same thing. 

“We’re not doing this,” Calum shoves the Michael from his reality and then kicks him in the shin for good measure. “It’s not a mirror. Why are they here?”

“Uh, why are you here?” The other Calum crosses his arms over his chest and has the audacity to look pissed off. Like this is Calum’s fault.

Calum scoffs at him. Himself. The other him. “Us? We were here first!” 

He flinches as his headache is still pounding. The way everyone else in the room twitches and squirms at his loud voice tells him that the rest of them do too. 

“Shut up,” Michael tells him. “We should-“

The other Michael is already nodding. “- Have an orgy, I agree.” 

“You idiots!” The other Calum shouts. “No! We’re here to look for clues!”

Everything starts piecing together. Calum’s mouth drops open, although he’s not surprised in the slightest. “You’re not telling me that your Ashton and Luke are missing,” he says slowly. The other Calum shifts uncomfortably like he’s also understanding what’s happening. “And you’re searching other realities for any clues.”

“Because he didn’t want to do the work,” the other Calum points at the Michael from Calum’s realm. 

“Yes!” Calum yells. He kicks Michael in the shin again, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“This is great!” Michael says, sounding a lot like Michael Two. “We all have pounding headaches because we’re about to die from being in such close proximity!”

“I’ve always wanted to die,” Michael Two replies.

“Hey, me too!” Michael replies happily. 

Calum scoffs and hears a buzzing from the bathroom. His headache gets a million times worse. He hears his voice say, “Michael, you idiot!”

He turns to his Michael and says, “You idiot! Every reality of us that follows the same timeline is coming to this reality!” 

“We’re going to die,” Michael replies. “This is just like-“

There’s a deafening amount of Michael’s that say, “Hancock!” 

Calum wishes he was dead. He digs his fingers into Michael’s shoulder and holds his right wrist directly to his scarred face. “If you don’t get me out of here right now I’m going to make sure you never breathe ever again!” 

The other Calum in the bedroom with them seems to be threatening the Michael from his reality with something similar. There’s another buzz and more shouts from the living room. Calum’s headache is getting so bad, that he starts feeling blood drip out of his nose and pool in his Cupid’s bow. It feels like something is dripping out of his left ear, too. When he looks up, Michael’s crying a single red tear. 

The ground below them begins shaking, slow at first and then violently enough to knock the lamp off Ashton’s nightstand. Small chunks of drywall start raining down from the ceiling and sticking to the blood staining Calum’s lips.

He hears half of another buzz before his headache is suddenly lessens significantly and they’re flying through time and space again, black electricity pulling at Calum’s bones and sparking life into his heart. 

All at once, everything goes silent. Calum’s headache has disappeared, so he wipes under his nose and is surprised to find its clean. When he opens his eyes, he finds that he’s sitting on the couch in his apartment, pillow on his lap, laptop on his pillow, with his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Google is up, but the search bar is blank. 

He glances around and finds everything is exactly the same, there’s candy wrappers littering the floor and Michael is standing in the middle of the living room. 

“We’re home?” Calum asks nervously. 

Michael nods. “We’re home.”

Calum glances at his empty search bar again and makes a frustrated noise. “We went through all of that and didn’t come back with a single fucking clue?! We’re just-“ he checks the time on his laptop and groans again. “Three hours ahead? We lost three whole hours for nothing?!”

Michael holds his hand up, then quickly pats his pockets and pulls out the magazine he’d been reading earlier at Calum’s other apartment. Except it’s not a magazine. When he holds it up, it looks like a stack of printer paper, folded in half and stapled together, with words written across the front in red ink.

“Not quite,” Michael says.

Across the front of the book, in Calum’s handwriting, is “How Ashton Disappeared.”

Calum tilts his head at it, but nods approvingly anyway. “Extremely specific.”


	13. Throw Your Problems On Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from STFU by Aminé!!!

Ashton’s just walking through the open door, socks sliding on fresh tiles, when an alarm blares. Luke ducks and whips around, but Ashton keeps walking. It sounds like an air horn echoing around the warehouse.

“What the fuck is that?” Luke demands. He straightens up when the noise stops and hurries to follow Ashton into the room. It seems to be a one time thing. Deafening, but only once.

“Alarm,” Ashton replies. “Every three hours.” 

He leads Luke into a fully equipped lab, papers spread across multiple tables and small refrigerators running gently. Luke glances around, but he can’t piece together why this door had sprung open so suddenly. For what? Ashton loves science work and experimenting, a full lab would give him more joy, not make him miserable like he figures a kidnapper would try for.

Luke furrows his eyebrows, but he’s still kind of focused on the abrupt alarm. And the fact that he’s only been here three fucking hours. He looks at the back of Ashton’s head and says, “For what?”

Ashton walks over to what is clearly his main table and settles into a stool. A second stool is next to his, so Luke settles into it and watches Ashton blink at his papers and say, “So I don’t sleep. They want me to lose my mind and do something stupid.” 

It makes sense. Ashton had just tried to fucking kill him and the abruptly fallen asleep in the floor. Luke doesn’t doubt he’s slowly losing his mind in this small warehouse. He wonders what stupid thing they want Ashton to do. 

Ashton rubs a hand down his face and mutters, “Of course it’s you. Obviously that’s why they brought you here.” 

“What?” Luke watches him stand and turn around three times with a blank look on his face, before he spots a mini fridge across the room and heads for it with a purpose.

“You wanna know why we’re here?” Ashton asks. He pulls open the mini fridge across the room and grabs a small container of samples from it, along with a paper bag.

Luke frowns at the items in his hands. When he looks up, he meets Ashton’s dull eyes and immediately replies, “Yes.”

“I’m a scientist,” Ashton tells him honestly. “I need help. You’re a scientist. If we’re missing from Calum’s life, they’ll get under his skin. He’ll go insane.” 

He’s not wrong, Luke thinks. Calum is losing his spark. He can’t imagine how upset he’ll be to find out they’re both missing. Ashton trudges back over to his stool and settles down to pull out a plastic bag from the brown paper bag. There’s a cheap looking kitchen knife inside, coated with blood on the blade, with a small section near the tip rubbed off.

Luke recognizes it instantly. 

“This is Calum’s blood,” Ashton tells him. Luke flinches. It’s somehow worse when Ashton says it so blandly. Like a robot. Ashton reaches over to the case of small test tubes and shakes one with his pinky finger. “This is Calum’s dna. But only the mutant part. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Luke doesn’t want to admit it, so he shakes his head quickly, like that’ll make Ashton stop talking.

Ashton sighs at him and rests his pinky on a second tiny test tube. “This is Michael’s mutant dna. Do you get it now?”

“Stop,” Luke replies. “Stop it, why do you have those?”

Ashton rubs his heavy lidded eyes and sets his face in his hands, elbows against the black table. “If I’m good, I get to eat. I haven’t- I didn’t eat for three days, but I gave in yesterday because I was so hungry and they said they’d turn off the alarm and let me go and they locked the bathroom and-“ he cuts off and looks at Luke with red rimmed eyes. “If you don’t help me, they’ll kill us both in here.”

“Stop it,” Luke says again. “Knock it off, they’ll- well, Calum will find us. He’s not stupid. Ashton, we’ll find you some food, I’m sure we can open one of the doors-“

“We can’t,” Ashton shifts around and pulls three mini screwdrivers from his pocket. “We can’t, I’ve tried, they won’t open. I’ve tried so many times, nothing works except-“ he cuts off and stares the the dna and blood stained knife in front of him. 

Luke follows his line of vision and feels a clawing at his chest, like a sinkhole sucking in his heart, when he sees the knife again. Michael had stabbed Calum. Michael had given their kidnappers means to steal Calum’s blood. Luke frowns, because he’d had a part in this. His body is tired. 

“Please help me,” Ashton says softly. He looks exhausted and miserable and Luke thinks his cheeks might be thinning out. His stomach growls, but neither of them react to it. 

Luke looks at the knife again and says, “Absolutely not.” 

They sit in silence until the alarm blares again and two guards come in to escort them out of the lab.

Luke spends five days trying and failing to pick locks, starving and watching guards eat in front of him, as Ashton’s cheeks definitely begin to hollow out. Luke tries absolutely everything to get into the room Ashton says is a kitchen, his body is bruised from slamming into it and his fingers are bloody and red. His middle finger nail had chipped off at the halfway point, but he can’t find it anywhere in the warehouse. 

He can feel himself losing his mind, getting angrier and angrier, stalking around the warehouse until he collapses to sleep for however long is left on the three hour timer before he starts stalking around again. Ashton watches and occasionally screams at him, demanding he help, shoving him around until Luke tries to fight back, then bursting into hysterical tears. 

Luke helps him do everything, from forcing him to drink water and fill up on empty calories, to holding him down and making him sleep as long as he can. Luke resents him for it, hatred growing in his chest until he screams at Ashton first. It escalates to a fight and Ashton’s fingers snap at the first punch he gets in, left pointer finger jutting out at an odd angle. He howls and screams, even as Luke tries to snap his bones back into place while sobbing. 

They haven’t eaten or slept in five days. He decides he can’t keep this up.

On the sixth day, they sit in the lab like they always do when the door springs open, and Luke says, “I’ll help you.” His voice breaks halfway through, but Ashton gets the point.

He holds his finger out and allows Luke to set and wrap it in gauze, then pulls out the DNA’s again. 

“What’s the point?” Luke stares at it. His brain is motivated purely by food and sleep, he needs to help Ashton and get fed. Ashton had assured him that when they’d finished the days task, the door to the kitchen would spring open and they’d be allowed to eat until the next alarm went off. 

“An army,” Ashton mutters. “An army of Calum’s that can’t die.”

“It’s a good idea,” Luke admits, because it is. He may have trouble seeing and thinking, but he understands the draw to having guards built with mutant dna. Ashton nods and mumbles what they have to do. They both know it’s a bad idea, but they’ve given up on being found after a week (and a half, for Ashton). 

Maybe if they do this, they’ll be free to leave. They can figure out all the drawbacks after they go home and eat and sleep and see Michael and Calum again.

Luke helps Ashton with the necessary tasks, slowly but surely, and understands why they’d need two trained biomedical scientists to do it. And who better than the two that would drive the only force threatening to stop them to an emotional break?

Ashton uses a syringe to pull all the mutant concoction together, then drops it onto the table. He sets his palms flat on either side of it and stares down and the light green syringe. 

Luke’s slow brain connects the dots before Ashton can even manage to move. They want Ashton to do something stupid. They want Ashton to lose his damn mind and do something he’ll regret. Ashton grabs the syringe.

“No!” Luke shouts. He lunges across the table and throws his body onto Ashton’s arms, nearly tackling him, but mainly succeeding in keeping his arms pinned to the table. The needle stabs deep into the back of Luke’s rib cage, violent, throbbing pain flowering out around it as the liquid shoots through his veins. Every nerve ending in his body feels like it’s burning to a crisp. 

Luke screams and rolls into a ball while Ashton screams back and hits him angrily, already tearing up as a new alarm starts blaring through the warehouse. This one sounds like a warning. Luke’s vision shut off first, but he can still feel Ashton slapping him and hear him screaming and sobbing. He hears the guards enter and feels hands on his shoulders before he blacks out.


	14. But Why Can’t We All Just Get Along?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from she looks like fun by Arctic monkeys

Ashton’s been sitting in a chair for two days now. Not anymore. Their kidnappers are clearly pleased enough with Luke losing his god damn mind and doing something stupid, so they’d opened up both the kitchen and a secret, fourth room that Ashton had never been privy to, prior to Luke’s arrival. 

It’s nothing special, just a white painted room with a single double bed, all white sheets pulled tight at the corners, and a mound of pillows stacked high near the black headboard. Ashton pulls his chair from the warehouse and stacks a mountain of food in the corner, just in case he happens to walk out and the door slams shut and locks again. God forbid he lose track of Luke. 

At first, he’d been hysterical. His broken and dislocated fingers had been throbbing as he’d squeezed Luke’s arm desperately, trying to stop the hybrid dna from spreading through his veins. What if they’d completed the experiment wrong? Luke would die, and it would be completely Ashton’s fault. He’d grabbed Luke when he’d passed out and pulled the blonde into his lap as much as he could, entire body shaking while sobs racked his body, petting at Luke gently like that would help. 

He didn’t know what else to do, though. He hadn’t thought to make an antivirus. That would have done nothing, had he gone through with his original plan and injected himself. He had no idea how to even whip one up, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to by himself. Hence the reason Luke was kidnapped to begin with. This was all his fault. 

Luke’s pale, green shift skin was covered with tears and his hair was sticking to his forehead by the time the two doors had sprung open. It took a few hours, but eventually Ashton had risked letting Luke go and venturing over to examine the new room. As soon as he had figured out there was an available bed, he’d grabbed Luke’s wrists and pulled. 

It hadn’t occurred to him to rig up something with wheels. He hadn’t been thinking, just moving. His fingers throbbed, but he figured he could reset them later. After what had to be a month, maybe three days, maybe twenty minutes, Ashton managed to hoist Luke into the bed, then fall onto the floor to cry hysterically again. 

Luke’s limp body was spread haphazardly over the sheets and Ashton was sure he was dead. He had to be. He wasn’t breathing, he wasn’t moving, he hadn’t even flinched when Ashton knocked his head into the wall while trying to drag him into the room. So Ashton cried. He cried hysterically for hours, no tears appearing, just heaving and coughing and breathing like he’d forgotten how. 

Eventually, when his vision started turning black from the edges in, he used his one remaining brain cell to recognize that he was hungry. And thirsty. The reason tears weren’t coming out was because he didn’t have any liquid in his body. Ashton had stood, stumbling, vision blacking out and head spinning momentarily, and slowly made his way into the kitchen. He’d left his hand braced on the wall as he went to the fridge and started shoveling sliced turkey into his mouth.

When the package was empty, he’d thrown it aside and started scarfing down any food available, going after a gallon of milk, an entire tin of muffins, a big package of bagels, until he was breathing heavily and slowing to a stop. And then he threw up. In the middle of the kitchen floor. 

When he cried this time, tears rolled down his warm cheeks, healthier even with the taste of vomit in his mouth. 

Ashton ate slower the next time, starting with a package of saltines, then moving onto dry toast, before heating up the god damn stove and boiling some noodles and eating them dry over the course of an hour, taking long breaks for water and wiping the back of his wrist under his nose. 

Once he’d finished, he’d loaded as much food as he could into his arms and started stock piling it in the bedroom, trip after trip, until the kitchen was picked clean and several gallon jugs of water- formerly milk containers- filled the corner of the room. When he was finished, he crawled into bed with Luke and started a more thought provoking, heartfelt examination. 

His brain was snapped back into somewhat conscious working order. 

Luke was breathing, again, which made Ashton’s heart flutter with excitement, a few tears leaking out, only joyous his time around. His breathing was slow and shallow, but definitely there, which made Ashton wonder if Luke had been breathing the whole time, but he just couldn’t see it. Or hear it. 

Luke’s heart was fast, but he figured that was typical for someone who was trying to fight off a virus taking over each single strand of his DNA. Ashton internally gave him three days to a week to live, but didn’t have the heart to say it out loud. 

He did, however, have the heart to shove the blankets aside and push Luke underneath. He was clammy and sweaty, but cold to the touch, so Ashton wasn’t sure if he should go under the blankets, but he figured it be best to let him sweat it out. 

Over the course of the next few days, Ashton climbed into the bed periodically to pry Luke’s jaw open and drop water into his mouth, followed by water infused with protein powder he’d found in the cabinets of the kitchen. They knew one of them would need it. Ashton didn’t wonder if Luke would take care of him the same way, had their roles been reversed. Luke had been doing it, prior to the incident. And not counting when he’d broken Ashton’s fingers by being a brick wall. 

Ashton slept in the chair or on the floor, because, even though he was doing absolutely everything for Luke, somehow sleeping in the bed with him felt too intimate. Too close for comfort. Not to mention, there was a part of Ashton that was terrified of when and how Luke would wake up. And what he would be from that point on. He doesn’t have to wonder for too long. 

Luke wakes up on the fourth day, his tenth day in captivity, Ashton’s fifteenth. 

Ashton’s asleep in the metal chair when it finally happens, head leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, so he doesn’t know when it happens. He only hears soft munching when his mind pulls out of its sleepy haze and thinks rats. Rats had found their food supply. Meaning, there was a way in and out of the warehouse. 

Ashton whips his head foreword and opens his eyes, only to be met by a pair of baby blues staring back at him. Luke is kneeling on the floor by the pile of food, hand buried in a box of cereal, chewing quickly while he stares at Ashton. 

Ashton doesn’t know what to do. If he’s being honest, he hadn’t completely expected this day to come. 

He blinks at Luke and says, “You’re awake.” 

Luke grunts at him in response. 

“You’re…” Ashton looks him over. He’s scrawny under his sweatshirt and boxers, face narrow and bags hanging heavy under his eyes. He’s not alright. Ashton picks out a broader word and slowly finishes, “You’re alive?” 

Luke grunts again. 

“Can you still speak?” He asks. 

Luke sighs in exasperation and sets his box of cereal down angrily. “Can you let me be? I almost die for you and you repay me by giving me the third degree the second I wake up? I’m starving, just let me eat for a minute!”

“Let you be?” Ashton scoffs. “I didn’t ask you to stab yourself with the fucking needle, you did it! I dropped protein powder and water into your mouth everyday for four days and this is how you repay me?” 

“Yes!” Luke snatches up his cereal again and shoves his hand back into the box. “I did the same shit for you, so we’re even! Now let me eat!” He shoves a handful of Frosted Flakes into his mouth and crunches on them pointedly. 

“No!” Ashton scowls at him and sits up in his chair. “Look how I slept so that you’d be comfortable in your big bed!”

“Boo fucking hoo,” Luke replies, spitting cereal as he goes. “I didn’t ask you to do that, Ashton.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t ask you to steal my injection!” Ashton yells.”We’re not even, you owe me!”

“You know what?!” Luke yells at him. Ashton is absolutely fuming. “Everything I have done since I got here, I’ve done for you! I took care of you, the only reason you’re not dead, is because I-“ 

Luke bursts into flames.

Ashton scrambles to sit up, accidentally kicking the chair aside as he stands and stares at the scene below him. Luke looks completely fine, maybe a little panicked and red, as the flames engulf his body and flicker angrily. 

The flames ignite the cereal box in his hands, which breaks off and falls onto a box of crackers, before traveling while Ashton watches in complete horror, until his entire food collection is burning up in front of their eyes.

“No!” He screams. He wants to lurch forward and protect it, but he’s also a little scared of Luke and a lot scared of being set on fire. 

Luke panics even more at Ashton’s pained cry and jerks around to face him, throwing ashes of box around him. “What do I do?!” He yells.

“I don’t know, stop touching things!” Ashton’s terrified that their nice bed is next. He’s not going to be sleeping on the warehouse floor again.

“Put me out!” Luke demands, gesturing towards Ashton’s well preserved gallons of water. 

Ashton scoffs instantly. “Oh, now you want my help? And my water? No!”

“Ashton!” Luke yells back. 

Luke runs, still on fire, to the bathroom, puts himself out in the shower, and then disappears to sulk in the still open lab. Ashton scowls while he digs through the burned pile of food, most completely useless. 

He figures it’s safe to go back out into the warehouse, now. His big concern would be that the doors would shut and Luke would die alone in the bedroom, but it seems Luke’s completely capable of caring for himself, now. Ashton’s main problem becomes food, again. He needs to restock.

When he finds the strength to venture into the kitchen, he finds it’s been refilled with food, and there’s even a fresh pair of clothing for each of them laying out across the counter. He snatches up a shirt and some sweatpants and manages to shower before putting them on. Charred pieces of clothing little the ground and ashes disappear down the drain when the water turns on.

Which leads Ashton to believe the Luke is sitting on a stool in the lab, sulking and completely naked. 

The thought makes him smirk a little, but his mind is still running from the thought of Luke lighting on fire. The mutant DNA didn’t just combine Michael and Calum’s powers. It morphed into something useful for Luke to use. Something completely different. It used his DNA to determine its course. The thought makes Ashton’s hands shake, because in order to stop an army of mutants, they have to find a weakness for each single one. It will be a million times more difficult.

Ashton pushes the thought from his head as he gets dressed and storms off to the kitchen to start stockpiling food in the bedroom, again. He manages to get a decent pile started before feet scuff on the floor behind him. Ashton is kneeling on the floor, so he doesn’t bother turning towards the door, only scowls and continues rearranging his snacks. 

He’s expecting Luke to apologize or, at the very least, ask for an explanation, but nothing is spoken between the two. And then there’s a burning pain shooting through his shoulder. Ashton jerks his head to the side to see a needle stuck in his skin, pinning his shirt to his shoulder. He follows the needle up, follows Luke’s hands and arms, until he meets Luke’s wild eyes. 

“Luke?” Ashton says slowly, before he realizes what’s happening and panics a little. “Luke? What is this? What are you doing?” 

Luke grins at him as Ashton’s head starts spinning. His head is suddenly pounding. “Now,” Luke leans closer to him and Ashton decides he really has lost his damn mind. He should have shut up and let Luke eat his snacks. “Now, we’re even,” Luke hisses. 

“You son of a bitch!” Ashton yells. He tries to flail and maybe smack the shit out of Luke, but finds he can’t move. His vision starts spinning faster and faster and he’s vaguely aware of an alarm going off and the door slamming shut while Luke looks around in terror. 

Ashton blacks out.


	15. Day I Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Youngblood by 5sos I guess

((I'm almost done writing this fic and I can very strongly say that this chapter is my favorite. When I'm sad I go back and read the first half of this chapter to feel like not shit? Like maybe I don't suck at everything

Anyway it's really unedited!!!! 

Title from Youngblood)) 

 

Michael has had enough. He's sick of this, honestly. 

He and Calum had found enough useful information in the little booklet that Calum had created in another reality to realize that Ashton's kidnapping and the attack on Michael and Luke in the middle of the street a few weeks prior had been related. There was a small connection in the form of the man that like had spoken to about being married. His husband was a part of the group that he Calum in another reality had noted as "highly suspect." 

Luckily, Michael had thought ahead enough to steal the mans wallet after attempting to drown him in the lake. Well, he was broke and wanted ice cream, but that's not the point. The point was, they had an address to go off of. 

Except, that address was heavily guarded. 

It's a large house, a Spanish style mansion with a long driveway, a gated property, and several men with massive guns milling about. They look strange, dotting the manicured lawn and standing near perfectly groomed hedges. 

Calum and Michael were crouched behind one of the hedges, eyeing up the scene like they were trying to think of a good vantage point. Michael glances over and eyes Calum for a moment before deciding that he probably is assessing the situation. Like a massive loser. They've been crouched behind the llama shaped bush for ten minutes and Michael's gun is burning a hole in his hello kitty purse. 

"Okay," Calum whispers eventually. Michael glances at him, trying to convey how bored and annoyed he is. If he'd known breaking into one stupid white dudes house would take this long, he would have brought something to keep him occupied. "Okay, I think we can distract the guards so that we can sneak in. I can pull down a branch from the tree, and we can jump through that window."

Calum points to the open second floor window subtly. Michael follows his line of vision and snorts.

"No," he says.

Calum blinks at him. "What? No? You can't just say no to my plan!"

"I did," Michael replies. "No, I don't want to do that."

Calum spitters for a moment before spitting out, "I'd like to see you think of a better plan!"

Michael is so bored. And his knees hurt from all this crouching. He just wants to go home and relax. And find Luke or Ashton or whatever at some point. It takes him half a second to think of a plan.

"Okay," he shrugs. 

"Okay?" Calum echoes in a sharp whisper. "What do you mean o-"

Michael falls back into his ass and lifts his feet, then kicks Calum in the chest as hard as he can. Calum goes flying through the air in response, letting out a loud screech that draws everyone's attention to him and away from the hedge. The guards surrounding the area draw their guns and point them as Calum flails through the air and eventually lands in the middle of the empty lawn with a grunt. 

Michael takes his time pulling out the handgun from his over the shoulder purse, rustling through loose knives and various stolen credit cards, and eventually pulling out the silencer. The guards start yelling at Calum, who's sitting up in the grass and looking around wildly like he's about to lose it, while Michael screws on the silencer. It slips a few times, but he eventually gets it on and shoves the whole gun through the bush carelessly. 

"God damn it!" Calum yells from thirty feet away. "I'm so fucking sick of you, Michael!" The guard directly in front of him drops dead, so he snaps his mouth shut. 

Michael hums the Pokémon theme song as he takes aim at and shoots down the remaining five guards. Once they've all dropped, Calum scowls and stands up, brushing himself off angrily. He begins to storm over to the llama hedge again, but stops short when a gunshot rings out and a bullet rips through his shoulder. 

There's a guard rounding the corner, gun aimed, running at Calum and shooting wildly. Calum screeches and takes off in the oppoiste direction while holding his injured shoulder tightly. Michael casually swings his gun over and shoots the new guard once, watching him drop limply to the front yard. 

"You make good bait!" He calls. 

"Stop killing people you fucking-" he gets cut off again when he's shot in the thigh, instantly howling in pain. Michael eyes the scene in front of him carefully, but he can't seem to find where the bullet had come from. 

He waits patiently as Calum starts limping towards the fence surrounding the yard, holding his thigh with one hand and his shoulder with the other. Another bullet lands between his legs. Calum shrieks and starts hobbling towards the property line faster, while Michael follows the trajectory and does other common sense bullshit until he sees the barrel of a long gun stuck out the window that Calum had wanted to launch himself into. 

"Hey!" Michae calls. Calum keeps hobbling and gets shot in the left shoulder blade for his efforts. He yells like he's not going to be completely fine in ten minutes max. "Hey, spider bitch!" 

Calum risks it and glances back at the bush Michael's still crouching behind, so Michael nods his head towards the window. Unimpressed, Calum turns back around and continues his half assed limp-run. Michael is considering just letting him go to see how he plans on getting over the ten foot tall plastic fence. 

As far as he can tel, it hasn't occurred to Calum that he is literally Spider-Man so far. 

"Hey!" Michael yells again. "Shouldn't you be able to detect when something bad is going to happen? You didn't see this coming?" 

"You're a wild card!" Calum screeches at him. His voice is full of hatred, but at least he stops hobbling and seems to remember the whole web thing as he glances at his wrists. Michael decides its best to let him be as he starts scanning the area again. There's two guards hiding behind what looks to be a gardening shed (probably where they keep the llama trimming tools), so Michael kills them easily and quietly with a single bullet each before turning back to the window, again. 

The gun is still there and carefully taking aim at Calum in the yard below. After a few seconds, there's the unmistakable sound of Calum's stupid webs, and the gun jerks up an inch like whoever is manning it is following something through the scope. It only takes another second for the gunman to stick his head through the window in search of Calum. 

Michael takes the shot and the man falls out of the window with a pretty sick crunch. 

"Hmm," Michael hums as he pulls his gun from the llamas guts and slowly starts unscrewing the silencer. Once he gets it off, he places it gently on the pile of knives in his pink purse and digs around until he finds a few loose bullets. He reloads the gun patiently and then decides to just stick the gun into his pocket. Just in case. 

When he's finished putting everything away, Michael stands up and glances around slowly. The yard is completely empty, save for a few drops of Calum's blood and some scattered bodies. Figuring it's time to press his luck, Michael pats his thigh, whistles, and says, "Calum! Come here boy!" 

Calum swings out of the thick branches surrounding the large oak tree about twenty yards away, screeching at top volume through the fabric of his mask, and holding a web tightly above his head. He swings down and catches Michael in the chest with his feet and sends him flying across the yard. Michael goes straight through the llama bush (oh no, Steve, Michael had made a friend) and flails wildly like he's trying to grab ahold of the air, before landing on his back in the grass.

He hears his ribs break and feels his breathing get short for a moment, gasping in the dirt, until his rib snaps and his probably popped lung reinflates and he can cough again. Which he does, multiple time, until his ribs grow back and he can see his chest heave. The whole ordeal takes about fifteen seconds and by the time he's done with it, Calum lands at his feet with a fancy little twirl.

"Fuck you," Calum scowls down at him. 

"Uh huh," Michael replies. He holds his hand out, so Calum patiently takes it and pulls him up off the ground. Michael brushes himself off and gets shoved for his efforts. 

"Now that everybody's dead," Calum huffs and nods his head towards the house. "Shall we."

"It's a date!" Michael tries to grab his head again, but Calum smacks his wrist and then pushes him again for good measure. 

"It's not!" Calum replies angrily. "It's a- uh, a, uh- it's a meeting while we-""

Michae cups his hands around his mouth and yells, "Dream team!" as loud as physically possible. Calum huffs again like he's a sulky tween and then storms towards the backyard. 

Michael glances at the front door, then towards Calum walking away from it, then back towards the front door, and quickly decides which plan requires less physical strength. It helps that Calum seems to have healed completely and takes off jogging towards the back of the house. Disgusting. Michael turns on his heels and walks over to the front of the house. 

It's locked, but when is a bad guys lair not locked? He briefly wishes Luke was here, not only because he knows how to pick locks. Whatever, Michael might worry from time to time. He scowls when he feels himself getting sad and shakes it off, shoulders wiggling. He can figure out how to open a door without Luke and the bobby pins he might pull out of thin fucking air. Michael's an adult with skills and stuff. He can do things. 

He considers the door for a moment and glances around. Nothing moves and Calum is no longer in sight to yell at him. Michael bends down and grabs a big rock from next to the door with both his hands, struggling to lift it up onto his shoulder and rest it there. He pants for a second as he eyes up the big Spanish style front door, complete with big, frosted over windows and several bolts. 

After his little break, he steps back and then runs full steam ahead towards the front door. At the last second, he chucks the rock forward with all his strength and watches it shatter the frosty window. Michael leans forward, braces his hands on his knees, and pants. 

After he catches his breath again, he stands up and leans back to crack seemingly all of his bones at once, hands on his hips while grimacing. "Oh my god," he pants. "Jesus Christ. Oh my god, this is the worst things I've ever done. Son of a fuck." 

It takes a full minute for his arms to stop aching as his muscles finally heal over, but the ache and lethargy stay deep set in his mind. When he finally feels better, he reaches into the broken window, smacking lose glass shards away from his fingers as he goes, and sets about unlocking all the deadbolts. 

The door pushes open easy enough, swiping the bigger pieces of window away as it goes, so Michael steps into the mansions foyer and glances around. 

Calum is standing ten feet in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, somehow looking pissed off under his mask. 

"That was...." Calum trails off and gestures to the door. "Something?"

"How'd you get in here?" Michael asks.

Calum gestures at the ceiling above his head. "I jumped into a window upstairs, took out three guards- without killing them,- swept the house, and then came back down here to unlock the door for you."

Michael gestures to the open door behind him and says, "Well, I got in, bitch." 

"I see that," Calum nods.

"Thanks so much for the help," 

"Yeah,"

Michael rolls his eyes at how short Calum's being and the snide remark about not killing anyone. He vaguely thinks Calum's a dick but then decides that too high a compliment. "Where is this guy, anyway?" He asks. "Murderery kidnappy Guy."

"I don't know," Calum shrugs. "I looked around really quick but I didn't really find anything." 

"Huh," Michael puts his hands on his hips again, knocking his hello kitty purse out of the way, and looks around the foyer. He's still a little out a breath, if he's being honest. Maybe his lung had half a rib stuck in it or something. 

The foyer is a large, grand entrance, complete with a chandelier at the top of a lofted ceiling and a large staircase leading to a balcony hallway. There's a sparsely decorated living room to his left, complete with elegantly framed average art and some empty vases. 

"Now here's my theory," Calum starts. Michael drops his hands from his hips and slumps, but quickly finds it in him to tune out. Party in the USA is playing in his head. He starts wandering around, fingers trailing over the empty walls curiously, until he pushes some French doors open and discovers a kitchen. Fully stocked. They have gushers. 

Michael pulls the box out of the cabinet and rips open a pack. 

"So?" Calum says from behind him. Michael jumps, unaware that Calum had followed him into the kitchen. "What do you think?"

"What?" Michael turns around and blinks at him. "About- oh, about your theory or whatever? Yeah, cool, great. Now, here's mine. This is a front. There's gotta be a secret basement or room or something."

"That's- that's literally just my theory," Calum reaches forward and smacks the bag and box of gushers out of his hands in one big swoop. "You just repeated my theory."

"Dickhead," Michael replies. 

"How am I the dickhead?" Calum scoffs. 

Apparently, he feels bad, because he bends down and picks up the scattered gushers and packages that had fallen out of the box. When he gathers them up and shoves then back into the box, he stands up again, so Michael smacks the box out of his hands. Calum huffs and crouches to pick them up. He gets them all together and stands up, so Michael smacks the box again. Calum keeps a tighter grip this time, so it takes more effort, but eventually Michael manages to smack the box to the ground. 

Calum huffs at him. "Stop! Stop it!"

"Calum, clean up your mess," Michael gestures to the various gushers packages, the scattered snacks from the open packs, and the dented box littering the floor. "You don't live here, this is shameful." 

Calum stomps his foot like he's a pre teen. 

He doesn't make a move to bend down again (really, Michael could do this all day), so Michael loses his attention span and starts glancing around the room again.

"I'm not saying I'm a genius," he says slowly. "But, this house is so impersonal. It-"

"Has no family photos," Calum finishes.

At the same time, Michael says, "Has awful interior decorat- oh. Yeah, okay." 

Calum gives him a short glare but quickly moves on. "So we agree this is a front? We agree on this. This is a thing that we agree on."

Michael also finds it strange that the agree on something. He holds his hand out, ignores how Calum flinches, and says, "No. no, you said something stupid, whatever, I said this was a front."

"Yeah but you-"

"No, hold on," Michael can't ignore it. He'd tried, but it seems he just can't. "Why'd you just flinch. I just-" he pushes his limp hand towards Calum again. Calum squirms away and slaps at his wrist. 

"Because you bully me!" Calum yells at him. "All you do is smack things out of my hands and bully me!"

"I did it once!" Michael scoffs.

"Twice!" 

"Twice with the same thing, it counts as once," Michael defends himself. Calum opens his mouth to continue the argument, but stops mid vowel when a floorboard creaks begins Michael. Leaning around him, Calum looks at whatever is entering the kitchen, mouth still hanging open, and makes some sort of squealing noise of protest. 

There's a gunshot and then a stinging pain in the back of Michael's head, right where his skull meets his neck. The pain Flowers out from that spot and his body siezes, suddenly struck by a pain he hasn't felt in years. 

"Oh, worm?" Michael blinks once, twice, watches Calum stare at him in absolute horror, and then falls flat on his face in the middle of the kitchen. 

He's vaguely aware of more gunshots echoing through his ringing ears, as Calum shoots up into the chandelier, but he can't be too sure whats happening. If something is happening. Or maybe he's just hearing a lullaby and Calum's fine or whatever. Michael feels his body twitching on the floor but only vaguely notes it as he's more preoccupied by his eyes rolling back into his head. 

He wants to say, "Man, fuck this shit," but when he manages to unhinge his jaw, he flies open and clicks there like it's been pulled out of socket. Drool leaks out and lands on his shoulder. 

The whole ordeal probably lasts a minute and a half. At that. But, to Michael, who hasn't felt anything worse that a pin prick when he gets stabbed (a weekly occurrence), the sudden pain pulsing hot and angry at the back of his head is excruciating. And startling. It's like he's getting a paper cut for the first time ever. 

His senses come back all of a sudden as his spinal cord and brain stem stitch back together. Michael suddenly becomes intensely aware that he's screeching on the ground with his mouth wide open, twitching hysterically. He snaps his mouth shut and drops limp, clearing his throat like nothing had happened. His hands fly up to the back of his neck as he sits up, so he gets to feel the last few skin cells stitch over a bullet hole. When it heals, he rubs over the smooth spot and frowns. 

Calum is crouching in the countertop careful, in typical Spider-Man fashion, staring at him with his masked head tilted slightly like he's worried or something. 

Michael looks over at him and says, "Sorry, I'm just going through something. Mid life crisis, you know how it is."

"I do not," Calum replies. "You just had a seizure. For like, twenty minutes." 

Michael rubs his bare neck again. "Huh." 

He glances around the kitchen and finds there's four people webbed to the chairs surrounding the kitchen table, all angrily staring at Michael like it's his fault he'd had a seizure. Or whatever the fuck that was. He chooses not to address them and looks at Calum again, instead.

"Why the fuck didn't you stick a spoon in my mouth?" He asks

Calum shrugs at him, still perched on the counter, but looking more relaxed now. "I don't know, was I supposed to? I thought that was a myth."

"Why would I know?" Michael scoffs. "I'm the one that had the seizure, you're the one that's just supposed to know. Fuck You, did you even do anything to help me?" 

Calum forcefully gestures to the four people tied to chairs twenty feet away from them. "Yes! You got shot! I stopped the idiots with the guns!" 

"Besides that?" Michae asks. Calum sputters. "That's baby stuff. I could have died."

"And who's fault is that?" A voice behind them says sharply. It songs like a cat hissing, angry and tense, but still soft enough to be a little bit dangerous. Michael turns around to size up the one that had spoken curiously. Three of the people have webbing stuck to their mouths, and the fourth has a smirk playing on his lips. Also, massive eyebrows that make Michael suspicious instantly. Like, if he'd met the guy at night on the street, he would cross to the other side of the road based on the eyebrows alone.

Calum holds up his wrist ominously, but Michael waves him off. 

"No, hold on," he squints at the gray haired man stuck to the chair. Calum looks back at him nervously and shifts like he knows something bad is about to happen. Which he probably does. 

"Do you know why you're here?" The man spits out.

Calum holds his wrist ready while Michael pats around until he can find the strap of his hello kitty purse and dog his hand into it to pull out the gun again. He does it too quickly, so a few kitchen knives from dollar tree fall out and clatter onto the floor. 

"We're looking for Luke and Ashton," Calum tells him. 

"Yes," the man looks thrilled by the response. "Yes, you are! And you know what they've done?"

Michael doesn't know how to answer because, no, obviously not. They'd just said that's why they're here. He decides to leave that question up to Calum and glances behind him at the spider on the counter. Calum looks back and squints his eyes like he's trying to be soothing or something, before they both turn back to the kitchen table. 

"They stole your dna," the man says harshly. "They took it from the blood on knives and bullets that didn't work, and they made a serum and guess what they did with it?"

"No," Michael replies. Call him a soft bitch, but he's having a hard time processing that he was the one that he was probably the one that had stabbed Calum. He’s probably the only one. He was the one that got the blood out of Calum's body. Right in front of Luke. If any of this is true, it'll be his fault. 

"They're not missing," the man says. "No one kidnapped them. They ran off and turned themselves into mutants with your dna."

"You're lying," Calum says instantly. Michael figures he's speaking instead of thinking, because there really is a lot to unpack in this conversation. Michael is mentally exhausted. Well, he was when he'd walked in, but it's only gone downhill. 

"I'm lying?" The man replies. "I know for a fact that neither of you helped Luke whenever he was kidnapped. He was always held hostage alone. Gives a guy time to think, doesn't it?" 

"No," Calum replies. "He wouldn't do that. Besides, we saw that video of him with his kidnappers."

"Well staged, wasn't it?" The man smiles. Without even thinking, Michael's fingers grab wrap around the handle of a knife on the floor and his arm pulls back, but Calum grabs his shoulder and holds it in place tightly. 

"This doesn't make sense," Michael drops the knife again. "Ashton's not stupid, he wouldn't do that. There's not motive, bruh."

"Being coddled isn't a motive?" The man flicks his harsh but amused green eyes to Calum, who flinches. "Wouldn't you be sick of being smothered?" 

"No," Michael replies. Calum's hand squeezes where it's still on his shoulder. 

Clearly, Calum's starting to fall for this mess. He frowns and stays silent for a moment, before saying, "Prove it." 

The man in the chair smiles like he was waiting for them to ask. Michael does not like this one bit. Slowly, inch by inch, the man seems to be growing. A web snaps as his body nearly doubles in size within ten seconds, and other webs quickly follow suit, popping off of his body and falling uselessly to the floor. His skin starts becoming a grayish color and shapes begin appearing, slow at first, then popping out all over his body. 

He grows so big, that the chair snaps under his weight and forces him to stand. All of his clothing stretches and tears until it pops off. When the man finally stops growing, they're stuck staring at the exact same person, only four times as large and seemingly made of stone. He's leaning over in the big kitchen, even with the lofted ceilings.

Michael instantly says, "Holy shit, look at that dick!" 

Calum scoffs and smacks him upside the head. "No! He's a mutant! Stay away from the dick!"

The monsterous rock man bends down to pick up a shred of his torn black jeans and Michael spots a bald spot. On the rock. Oh my god, he's staring at The Rock. This probably isn't the best time to angrily tell this man that there can be only one Dwayne Johnson. The man (rock) in question comes back up with an iPhone X. 

And unlocks it with his face. 

"Now that's interesting," Michael says. The man looks at him with the same green eyes, but various rock patterns scattered across his gray skin. He shrugs and goes back to his phone. Calum slowly slips off the countertop and crouches down next to Michael to grab a few knives off the floor. Apparently, he doesn't think his webs will work if they have to fight this thing. Michael tends to agree as he shoves the gun into his pocket. 

Calum keeps his eyes locked onto the man on his iPhone and whispers, "Hey. You've seen the wrecking ball music video, right?" 

Michael nods slowly because, yes, obviously, it's an ingenious glance into the saterical world that emotions based music videos tend to offer. Obviously he's seen it. Calum's eyes flick up to the chandelier for half a second, but Michael gets it. 

"Wait for the signal," he mumbles. 

The man in front of them suddenly turns around and holds the iPhone out. Michael aims the gun at him more forcefully, so he drops the phone and kicks it over, hands up to show them he has nothing else. Calum's quick to snatch it up when it slides over. There a blurry video of a familiar looking warehouse up in his phone, so he glances back at the man suspiciously, then presses play. 

The video is clearly taken through a window, judging by the vague reflections and bouncing light. Ashton and Luke are sitting in the middle of an empty warehouse, each with what seems like an entire deck of cards in their hands. Ashton looks tired, but other than that, they look fine. It's heard to tell, due to the blurry quality, but they might even look happy. 

Ashton says something and shakes his head, and Luke screeches at him. And bursts into flames. Michael flinches as Luke continues slouching in his chair and burning up, while Ashton just laughs and rolls his eyes. Like that's not even a big deal. Like Luke didn't just spontaneously combust. 

The person holding the camera whispers, "Holy shit," and the recording ends. Michael stares at the screen, but Calum glances up again and quickly swipes left. 

The next video is of Ashton, seemingly taken from inside the building. He's screaming at top volume, eyes deepset and empty, while his cheeks are hollow and pale. He looks jaundiced and sick. Calum lets out a loud breath as Ashton continues screeching on the screen until Luke ventures over slowly, arm braces in front of him. 

"Listen," Luke says gently. "I know you're upset, but it's okay. Just calm down."

"No!" Ashton replies. He does looks like he's dying, Michael will be the first to admit. "No, fuck you! I fucking hate you! I hate you, I hate Michael, I hate Calum, just fuck all of you!" 

Luke's standing in front of him, braced like he's trying to talk to a rabid dog. He visibly pouts for a moment until Ashton screeches again and then Luke lunges, launching himself at Ashton and slamming into him bodily to hold his arms down and smack a hand over his mouth. The video cuts off, so Calum swipes left again. 

The next video seems to be from a security camera hanging from the corner of a well stocked laboratory. It's messy, but Luke and Ashton are clearly sitting at on of the lab tables. There's a bloody knife that looks a lot like the one in Calum's hand now, tossed aside. They watch as Ashton pulls the syringe in his hand back and Luke leaps forward to get the needle in his shoulder. 

The next video is Ashton laying in a double bed with Luke's limp body, curled into a little ball and sobbing hysterically. 

The next video is Luke screaming while flames burn his clothes of.

The next shows Ashton crouched on the floor in the same room, stacking boxes of food and gallons of water. Luke walks in behind him and stabs him in the back with a new needle. 

The next video is Ashton laying in the bed, like he's been thrown there haphazardly. The blankets are still under him. Luke is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him patiently while he slowly snacks on a few bites of food. They watch in silence as Luke finishes eating and slowly sets about getting Ashton under the blankets and tucked in. Luke feels his forehead for a second, then sits up against the headrest and pulls Ashton's head into his lap to starts pulling his hands through Ashton's hair soothingly.

And then he starts singing a lullaby. The same lullaby that had been in Michael's head after he'd gotten shot. 

"Calum," he says in a panic.

Calum waves him off and desperately tries to swipe again, but there's nothing left. He sets the phone down on the floor and looks up at the rock man again. "How did you get these? And how did you shoot him?" 

"They asked my team for help getting away from you," the man spits out. Calum flinches. "His DNA was in the bullet. Luke took it and Ashton copied it, so that we could use it against you."

"You're lying," Calum replies.

Michael thinks back to the first video shot through the window and his blood runs cold. "Calum," he says again. 

Calum smacks his knee to get him to shut up. "You're lying, they'd never do that."

"They did," the man gestures to himself. "They're mass distributing your mutant dna."

Michael's stuck on the reflection of the fire under the bridge in that window and how he'd heard the tune of that lullaby while he was at that fire. "Calum!" He cries.

Calum sighs heavily and looks at him. "What? I'm busy!"

Michael stares at him as all the dots connect in his head. "We have to go. I know where they are."


	16. I’m Sick Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from dreamers by AWOLNATION!!

It’s four am and Ashton can’t sleep. Well, 4:27, but whatever. He’s not sure he’s allowed to sleep anymore. Like, maybe that’s a thing fresh mutants can’t do. Real mutants can sleep, Calum’s like a fucking log until the hair at the back of his neck stands up and goosebumps appear on his skin, so Ashton knows damn well real mutants can sleep. 

But Luke has been jogging around the warehouse for probably four days, now. He hasn’t slept a wink, as far as Ashton can tell. Although, he had launched into a two day long coma immediately after the shot. Luke had taken care of him, apparently snapping back to his senses the second he’d stabbed Ashton with the needle. All Ashton knows is he’d woken up in the bed, tucked into the sheet, with Luke curled around him tightly. 

Ashton hasn’t slept since. Neither has Luke. Ashton, personally, fucking hates it. Sleep was his one pass time. The guards had turned off the alarm, so he could logically sleep for as long as they wanted with no breaks, but now, they can’t. He’s tried playing card games with Luke to pass the time, but Luke always loses and then he gets mad and bursts into flames and all his clothes burn off, so Ashton has to go grovel to the nearest guard to get Luke a new hoodie and boxers. 

Ashton shifts where he’s sitting at the kitchen table with an actual kitchen chair, and pulls his bowl of cold oatmeal towards him. He hasn’t even taken a bite, and now he’s not interested. He scowls and pushes it across the table before sitting back with an annoyed huff. 

Ashton annoyed. He’s annoyed, because he hasn’t figured out what his new mutant shift is. He doesn’t have even the slightest of clues. The second he’d woken up, Luke had helped him out of bed and prodded him to promote all of his emotions. But Ashton hadn’t burst into flame or grown into the hulk or anything. He’d provided normal human reactions, and now he’s on his second day of sulking. 

Ashton hates this. He wants to know how the mutant dna has shifted and changed his. Mainly, so that he can learn how to control and manipulate it and make himself useful. Instead, he’s just a stupid human with a slightly higher IQ than Luke. 

The man in question ventures into the kitchen carefully, not even out of breath after running for a few hours. He’s missing all of his clothes, ass naked as he grabs a water from the fridge and twists the cap off. Ashton watches him lean against the countertop and take a drink before they lock eyes. 

“Can you not sleep?” Ashton asks. 

“I’ve slept,” Luke replies with a shrug. “Not long, but I’ve slept since-“ he stops and gives Ashton a considering look before changing course. “Why?”

“I’m not tired,” Ashton replies. “I haven’t slept since I woke up from the coma.”

“Maybe you’re doing the opposite of making up for lost time,” Luke suggests. “Like, you slept for so long that your body is just sick of it. You close your eyes and your mind is like “suck my dick, bitch.””

Ashton stares at him incredulously for a second. Eventually, he manages to get out, “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m told,” Luke takes another drink. “What are you doing in here?” 

“Nothing else to do,” Ashton nods towards his bowl of discarded oatmeal. “Mainly thinking and being mad.”

“Still nothing?” Like frowns at him.

Ashton scowls at him. “If I had anything, you’d be the first to know. And the last.” 

Luke seems thrilled with that answer and happily finishes off his water bottle. There’s a few spare clothes laying around, so he slips on a new pair of boxers and a hoodie before joining Ashton at the table. 

“Don’t burn them off,” Ashton tells him. 

Luke looks down at his plain black hoodie and shrugs. “I’m gonna. I just be mad.”

“You-“ Ashton blinks at him “You be mad?”

“Sometimes it really do be like that,” Luke replies. 

“I feel like you’re memeing?” Ashton sighs heavily at him. “But I don’t know why? Like, I don’t think it’s cool, I don’t understand what you’re saying. There’s no one else here. Why are you doing this?”

Luke leans back in his chair and places one closed fist into his head, squaring up his shoulders. “Had to.”

Ashton stays silent because he knows it’s coming. After thirty silent seconds, he opens his mouth and says. “Had to-“

“Had to do it to ‘em,” Luke finishes. Ashton sighs heavily, but Luke’s still staring at him in that stupid pose with that stupid smirk on his face. Ashton jerks his head forward and shoves the bowl of oatmeal at him. The bowl slides over the edge of the table and falls into Luke’s lap with a gross squish noise that makes Ashton giggle a little. 

“Had to,” Ashton says. 

Luke scowls and stands back up to sulk over to the countertop where his pile of back up clothing is. “If you’re not nice to me, I’ll burn them all,” he threatens as he digs around for a new pair of boxers. “And then you’ll have to look at me naked forever.” 

“Ugh,” Ashton replies. Luke rips off his boxers and throws them into the sink so he can put the new pair on. He’s just sliding the waistband up his thighs when there’s a soft thumping noise coming from the main part of the warehouse. They both freeze in place and glance at each other curiously, like the other had made the sound. 

The thumping continues like someone is walking on the roof, before it stops altogether and a buzzing sort of scratching noise starts up. Ashton blinks at Luke. 

“I think there’s someone on the roof,” Luke says.

Ashton shushes him and harshly whispers. “Shut up! You’re so stupid!” 

He stands up quickly and starts silently moving towards the door. Luke follows him as they creep into the center of the empty warehouse and glance around. The ceiling is high and the rafters shield almost everything from sight, but they can both clearly see the little flicker of blue fire directly above them. Someone is trying to weld their way into the steel warehouse. 

“What-“ Luke gets out before Ashton shushes him again. They watch silently as a small box is cut out and the flame and soft scratching noise disappear. Logically, the square of steel and roofing should fall straight down and clatter to the floor, but it doesn’t. It stays locked in place. Luke slowly inches behind Ashton and crouches down slightly. 

The square of the warehouse above them shifts and drops a few inches, enough that Ashton can see the strands of webbing shining back against the light of a flashlight. He gasps, so Luke stumbles forwards and knocks his chest against Ashton’s back, then quickly wraps a hand around Ashton’s mouth and holds him tightly. The hanging square is ripped straight up and pulled away, just as the flashlight is flicked off. 

The now open and empty box shows nothing but soft moonlight and the dark sky for a moment, before a body is launched into it. And freefalls. The move is too stupid to be done by Calum. Ashton’s heart lurches at the thought of someone else with webbing breaking into their little warehouse. He knows the guards had stolen the serum while he was in a coma, ripping it out of Luke’s hands as he’d screamed and thrashed angrily. He knows other people are becoming mutants and there is nothing they can do to stop it. 

Ashton jerks back and takes Luke with him, spinning quickly and shoving him back by the chest until they can get away from the splatter zone. There’s a loud groan from where they’d been standing, but no sounds of a body crunching into the floor, so Ashton risks it and turns around. 

Michael is hanging in the middle of the room from a single web sticking to his back, scowling with his leg twisted in an unnatural way. 

Ashton stares at him as he starts being lowered towards the ground, then glances back at Luke. 

“You idiot!” Luke whispers angrily. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“No,” Michael says at a normal speaking volume. Luke and Ashton both shush him, so Michael holds his hands up innocently. He gets dropped for his efforts and flies the last few feet to the ground, landing with a soft thud and an annoyed huff. It only takes a second before Calum swings down on a web and lands next to him gently, completely silent. 

As Michael stands up, Luke makes a move like he’s going to go towards him, but Calum holds up his wrist menacingly. Michael pulls a handgun from the pocket of his denim jacket and points it at them. 

“What the fuck?” Luke scoffs. “What are you doing?”

Calum has the audacity to look sad that he has to threaten them. 

“Stay over there,” Michael says, then grabs his ribs and elbows Calum harshly. “Fuck you, why’d you drop me? You know I injure easily. 

“Shut- just shut up,” Calum mutters to him. He keeps his eyes on Ashton, however. It throws Ashton off a bit to see the two of them together. Not only that, but together in day time clothes. Calum’s wearing an only T-shirt and jeans, while Michael has the hood of a sweatshirt pulled tight around his face and a jacket layered over it. He’s chosen to pair that awful combination with some blue sweatpants, but Ashton doesn’t think he has room to criticize because he’s been shoved in boxers and a blank hoodie for three weeks. 

He holds his hands up slowly and maintains eye contact with Calum, trying to figure out what could possibly be going through his head. Why he could be holding them hostage while they’re already being held hostage. 

And then it hits him. Michael and Calum both look at Luke nervously. They know about Luke. Somehow. Ashton wonders what else they know. 

“He’s okay,” Ashton steps back slowly until he bumps into Luke’s chest to show them he isn’t a threat. “Don’t make him upset, and he’s okay.” 

Calum looks suspicious, still. “How do we know that?” 

“Would I lie to you?” Ashton asks. 

There’s a long, uncomfortable pause as Ashton slowly realizes that he’s the enemy, now. For whatever reason, between the time that Luke had been taken and now, the blame had shifted and he is now the enemy. 

Calum’s wrist looks unsteady as he holds it out. “I don’t know,” he admits. 

Michael glances between the two of them before sighing heavily like he’s already bored. “Listen, some big dumb rock dude told us you ran away to become mutants and destroy the world. Yes or no?” 

“No!” Luke says immediately. Ashton shushes him, so he continues in a whisper. “No, that’s completely not true! Well, we are mutants, but that’s the only real part- okay, I’m a mutant. I don’t know Ashton’s deal, but we didn’t run away! We were kidnapped!” 

“Okay, cool,” Michael shrugs and shoves his gun back into the pocket of his jacket. 

Calum glances back at him in annoyance. “What, just like that? You believe him?”

“He’s too stupid to lie,” Michael gestures towards Luke vaguely. Luke scoffs, but Calum makes a considering face before shrugging and dropping his arm. 

Ashton doesn’t even get a step in their direction before the door behind them opens. Luke and Ashton freeze in place, while Michael and Calum lean around them to peer at the door. Ashton’s quick to jerk out of the way, grabbing Luke’s wrist at the last second to pull him with. They’re the only ones in this situation with weapons, and Ashton isn’t about to let either of them go down in the crossfire. 

The guard that’s entered the building doesn’t look up until he gets a few steps inside and the door slams shut behind him. When he does, he spots Michael and Calum in the center of the room, and yells, “Hey!” 

Michael rips out his gun again and fires, just as Calum shoots a web at him.

Ashton has an abrupt flashback to his second day locked in here. A guard had asked him to do something, and he was angry, kicking and screaming as loud as possible. The guard had gotten too close, and Ashton had landed a kick to the dead center of his chest. The blow was hard enough to make his heart skip a beat, and an alarm had gone off instantly. Several guards stormed the building and held him down, but never sedated him. They didn’t want to give him the luxury of peaceful sleep. 

Ashton snaps back to the present and screams, “No!” 

It’s too late. Michael’s bullet gets there first and buried itself deep into the guards forehead. He hasn’t even hit the floor before the alarm triggered by the guards heart stopping begins blaring through the warehouse. Ashton doesn’t even think before bolting in the direction of his safe and warm bedroom. 

If there’s anywhere he wants to be when shit goes down, its there. The doors will slam shut soon. He wants to be in the bedroom, under the blanket, next to his stockpile of food and water. He feels Luke hot on his heels and knows he’d had the same thought. 

“Wha- Luke!” Michael yells. “Where are you going? Ashton!”

“No!” Ashton screams in a panic. His heart is about to beat out of his chest. He feels anxiety crawling up his throat, stinging like bile, as the doors slowly unlock from their places on the floor. He squeezes his eyes shut and runs as fast as he can. 

When his eyes open again, he seems to be jerking from side to side. He can’t feel his legs, but he can feel a soft thudding on his back, like panicked smacks on his shoulder blades, quick and sharp. When he glances behind him, everything seems to be a lot bigger. Like, monstrous. He watches massive guards pour in and run at Michael and Calum, who are all too prepared to fight back. Gunshots ring out, but Ashton’s heart is still racing too fast for his eyes to stay focused. 

Luke is still right behind him, staring at him in wide eyed horror. And a million times bigger than before. He mouths “Holy shit,” and keeps staring at Ashton like he’s just killed his entire family. 

Ashton watches guards rush at Luke and quickly turns around. The bedroom door is slammed shut. Ashton tries to scream, but he can’t find his mouth. 

“Ashton!” Luke cries. Ashton slams on his brakes and turns around, but he seems to be floating there, buzzing slightly in the air while he stares at Luke. “Up!” Luke yells. “Ashton, go up or they’ll fucking kill you!” 

Ashton wants to say up? But then he starts hovering up all by himself. He’s gaining more and more height as he goes, arms and legs flailing as he gradually goes up enough that he bumps into one of the rafters. He climbs on top of it and catches sight of small black stick like things that seem to be his arms. Now isn’t the time to panic. 

He’s a bumblebee. 

Ashton rests on the rafter and squirms until he can see his wings and his fluffy little body and his stinger. He’s a bumblebee. He clings to the rafter and looks down in time to see Luke get tackled. He curls into a ball and cries out in pain when one of the five guards surrounding him kicks him in the ribs. 

It only takes three more kicks before he’s bursting into flames and screaming as loud as he can. The guards jump away from him and pull out batons as Luke stands. He edges towards them, so the guards hit him with the batons from far away until he goes down again. Someone pulls out a bucket of water from the bathroom and douses him with it. Luke stays down this time and sobs gently as he’s handcuffed and ripped into a sitting position. 

Michael and Calum seem to be faring a little better on their own, but they both seem distracted. They’ve apparently figured out a technique with their backs pressed together, while Michael shoots his gun wildly and Calum shoots his webs with precise aim. Calum is looking around wildly while Michael seems to be inching his way towards where Luke is completely hysterical on the ground. 

The three of them are all glancing around, Luke nervously and Michael and Calum in confusion. 

“Where’s Ashton?” Calum yells, voice edging on panicked. Ashton buzzes, but realizes too late that he doesn’t have a fucking mouth, anymore. He can’t figure out how to work his wings, either, not that he’d know where to go from there. Anyone who saw him would just buzz him away, or worse. Slap him. 

“Up!” luke cries. “Up, Up, Up!” 

A guard kicks him in the face for his troubles. It’s hard, Ashton watches the skin on his jaw ripple as he flies back. When he lands on the ground this time, he stays down. His cries of pain stop. 

“No!” Michael takes off running, but he drops his gun and gets shot in the chest. He gasps and chokes and falls to his knees, clutching at the bullet wound and looking around for Calum in an absolute panic. Ashton watches in confusion as Michael bleeds out and then siezes up, like every single muscle in his body is contracting at the same time. He jerks and his eyes roll back. Ashton abruptly realizes he’s having a seizure. 

He watches from above as Calum lunges over and bends down to grab his shaking body. He pulls Michael up and over his shoulder before taking one more glance around. When he confirms Ashton isn’t anywhere to be seen and Luke is already being dragged away, he shoots a web up into the rafters. Calum disappears back through the hole and the gunshots stop, the warehouse becoming silent. 

It stays silent as a few guards stay to look over Luke, while the remainder leave. Calum and Michael had done well enough that several guards need to be dragged out or limp on their own. A few more need to be cut out of webs or peeled off the floor. Within ten minutes, the room is empty except for Luke’s limp body in the center and a single guard standing over him. 

“Ashton,” the guard says calmly. Ashton flinches back. “If you don’t get back here and help, Luke will die.” 

She leaves it at that and swiftly marches out, slamming the door behind her and leaving the two of them alone. Ashton can see the purple mark inflaming on Luke’s jaw from the ceiling. His mouth is hooked open at an awkward angle, probably dislocated and lodged out of socket. 

Luke is dying, and Ashton doesn’t know how to stop being a fucking bumblebee.


	17. Summer is Over (Summer is Over)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from come under the covers by walk the moon

When Luke wakes up, it’s by no fault of his own. It’s because there’s something cold and wet shoved into his cheek and hot breath on his ear. He squirms on the hard concrete, noting vaguely that’s he’s dressed again, and scruches his eyes shut tighter. Pain pulses hot on his face from the small action. 

Everything comes flooding back at once, Michael and Calum busting in, the alarm blaring, the guards kicking him and hitting him with batons, a shoe connecting with his face. He remembers his jaw hanging open and refusing to shut, remembers watching Michael get shot in the chest and seize as the bullet affected him in a way that nothing had before. Remembers watching Ashton turn into a bumblebee. 

Ashton had turned into a bumblebee. 

Luke whips his eyes open and comes face to face with a long, beige snout. There’s a little black nose attaches at one end, and a corgi attached to the other. The dog smiles at him, tongue lolling out happily, and prances forward. 

“Oh my god,” Luke sits up and grabs his temples in both hands. “Oh my god, no.” 

He closes his eyes, but the corgi is still there when he opens them again. It’s fur is almost the same color as Ashton’s hair. His little butt wiggles with the force of his tail wagging, as he stumbles towards Luke excitedly. 

Luke blinks at the dog. “Ashton? Please don’t answer me.” 

The corgi yips at him. 

“No, oh my god,” Luke repeats. “Ashton, you have to be human for this, what the fuck. I can’t go through this place with a puppy.” 

The dog- Ashton- shuts its mouth and tilts its head at him. 

“Can you understand me?” Luke asks. 

The corgi barks. 

“Okay,” Luke says slowly. “Can you…. turn back into human Ashton?” 

The dog barks again. 

Luke is mad he knows exactly what that bark means. “No? Why not?” Ashton barks twice and Luke’s brain translates it. “What do you mean, you don’t know how? How did you become a dog from a bee?” 

Ashton growls at him suspiciously, and Luke knows damn well he’s wondering why Luke can understand his barking. 

“Don’t be mad,” Luke holds a hand out and flinches at the bruises along his arm and the blood vessel broken in his inflated pinky. “I may or may not have stabbed you with the same needle that you stabbed me with. And then also stabbed myself again. A little bit. If you had any diseases, that’s a we thing now.”

Ashton’s barks and growls intermix until he’s launching his tiny body at Luke and bitting angrily at his arms and legs. Luke yells and shoves him away.

“Stop!” He pushes Ashton back, then decides to use his brain and wraps his hand tightly around Ashton’s little snout. Ashton growls and stares at him with intense hatred, but Luke just smirks. “No bite. Bad dog.” 

All of a sudden, the corgi is shifting and growing, bones snapping as he grows and the fur falls onto the floor. He grows until Ashton is sitting in front of him on all fours, staring down at his paws turned fingers, in complete fascination. Ashton looks up, then slaps Luke’s knee. 

“You’re so stupid!” He yells. “Why would you use the same needle three times?” 

“Well I couldn’t find a new one the first time,”Luke shrugs. “And then the second time, I thought I deserved to die so I tried to kill myself, but.” He shrugs and gestures vaguely around him to show that it hasn’t exactly worked.

Ashton softens considerably at that and frowns at him with this sad, dopey expression in his face. Luke almost feels bad. Before he can roll his eyes, Ashton bumbles forward and wraps his arms tightly around Luke, burying his face into Luke’s warm neck and sighing heavily.

“You’re so stupid,” Ashton mumbles. “You don’t deserve to die. You’re just stupid. And you were hungry and upset, I don’t blame you for this. Stupid.” 

“Be nice to me,” Luke pouts, even though he hugs Ashton back tightly. “I probably saved your life, little bumblebee.”

Ashton, apparently, does not like that nickname as he leans back, grabs Luke’s shoulders, and levels him with a chastising glare. “Do not call me little bumblebee.”

Luke has decided the nickname is staying forever. “No, I like it, I’ll call you What I want. Besides, it’s cute.”

“It’s annoying,” Ashton replies. “Also, lets go back to the whole saving my life thing, because, that was so fucking stupid, Luke. Do you know how stupid you are?”

“You tell me at least every ten seconds,” Luke nods. 

Ashton shakes his head. “I don’t- that’s- I don’t know what we do from here.” Luke can tell something is nagging at him by the way he glances down, drops his hands into his lap, and picks at his fingernails. Eventually, Luke bumps their knees together and frowns at him until Ashton mumbles, “Why haven’t they come back?” 

It’s a good question. They both instinctively look up at the whole that’s still in the ceiling. There’s no guards in sight, besides the two standing outside the door, and there’s nothing visible through the window. As far as Luke can tell, the circumstances are no different than the night Michael and Calum has broken in. Which does indeed beg the question, why haven’t they tried again? 

There’s only one possible solution in Luke’s head and it has to do with the way Michael has gone down when he was shot. 

“Michael fucking died,” Luke says. “Did you see how he went down? He fucking died.”

“He Had a seizure,” Ashton says quickly. “He’s not- he didn’t die. Did you see how Calum reacted? Like it had happened before. He knew exactly what was happening.”

Luke considers it. He’s so used to Michael getting shot in the head and moving on or even Michael sawing off his own limbs for seemingly no reason. He really doesn’t know what he’d do if Michael had been so easily taken out with a single bullet. Well, he does. He’d watched it happen and he’d done nothing. He was too shocked to move.

He thinks back to the terrified look in Michael’s eyes as he’d clutched his chest and slowly realized what was happening. They’d made eye contact for half a second as Luke’s eyes started rolling back into his head from the intense pain in his face and Michael had fallen to his knees in shock. Amid the stomping of heavy boots and the gunshots aimed at them, Luke had locked their eyes in time to see a drop of blood fall from Michael’s mouth. 

The world had gone back to spinning as Michael fell to the floor and started shaking violently. But that’s all luke can remember. He’d blacked out before he could see anything else, but he’d witnessed the way Michael had grabbed at the bleeding wound like he’d known what would happen. 

Like this had happened before. 

“What was that bullet?” He furrows his eyebrows. 

Ashton gestures towards the open door to the lab. “That was us. They’re using the dna we copied for more than creating mutants. They’re creating weapons with it, starting with bullets.”

“We killed Michael,” Luke summarizes. “We turned ourselves into monsters and then we killed Michael for trying to help us.”

“We didn’t kill Michael,” Ashton sighs at him. “Calum grabbed him before he could, I don’t know, swallow his tongue or anything. He knew exactly what to do, okay? Michael isn’t dead.” 

“Then why didn’t they come back?” Luke spits. Ashton sits back and frowns at his hands. The thought hits luke first. There’s nothing visible outside. There’s nothing visible out the warehouse window. Not the overpass, not the garbage can, and not the homeless man. 

“Are we-“ Luke looks out the window, so Ashton follows his gaze. “Are we in the same warehouse?” 

“I-“ Ashton cuts off and stares out the window with his mouth dropped open in surprise. “I don’t know. I- I don’t know- oh.” 

His face falls as he looks back down at his lap. Luke frowns at him. “What?”

“Okay, so I was a dog,” ashton gestures behind him to where the dog was stood a few moments prior. “I was a bumblebee, and then I was a human because I was panicking and I had to get all the excess blood out of you face before you died- did I mention that earlier? You almost died?”

“Cool,” Luke shrugs. “Was it the face thing?”

“It was the face thing,” Ashton nods. “You has so much blood in your face, I had to suck it out with some needles. Anyway, you’re fine now. So, I did that, and then I was worried you’d be sad, so I turned into a dog for a while and- don’t laugh at me- I may or may not have accepted a large doggy treat. That may or may not have had sedatives in it.”

“Oh no,” Luke says softly. “Oh, little bumblebee, no.” 

Ashton shoots him a glare at the nickname. “To my defense, I didn’t have thumbs and I was hungry. Anyway, they must have moved us when I was knocked out. Everything looks the same except- well, you know.” He nods his head towards the window. There’s just an empty field in front of them, now. The land is completely barren, save for a few rogue trees in the distance and a couple birds swooping through occasionally. 

“That’s okay,” Luke says quickly, mainly to stop Ashton from looking so fucking sad. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you! Just- I don’t think we’re in Brooklyn anymore.”

“No,” Ashton sighs. “I suppose not.” 

They sit in silence for a while, staring out the window while Luke opens and closes his jaw slowly like he’s testing his limits. He can get it pried open about an inch before the pain is unbearable and he has to snap it shut again. He huffs and rubs the bruise on the left half of his face. 

“So,” Luke glances at Ashton. “How’d you fix my face?”

“I don’t know,” ashton shrugs as he glances back. “I got stuck up in the rafters for a while, but I eventually learned how to fly down. And then I turned back into myself like, ten entire feet in the air and I broke my thumb, but look.” 

He holds out his thumb, so Luke eyes it curiously. It looks completely fine. 

“Well that’s not fair,” Luke says as he examines the hand being shown to him. “You got Michael’s thing, that’s not cool. I didn’t get that, obviously.” He getures to his beat up face and the various aching pains on his body as a whole. 

“Maybe you got Calum’s thing,” Ashton suggests. Luke holds out his wrist curiously, but Ashton smacks it down before he can try anything. “No, not webs. Could you imagine what a nightmare flaming webs would be? I meant the spideysense. Maybe you got that.” 

Luke considers it, but shakes his head. He hadn’t felt nervous prior to seeing a hole being drilled in the ceiling. He probably should have expected that, if he’d had the spideysense. He snaps his fingers and looks at Ashton again. “I wonder if you got the reality thing Michael has. Like, soemtimes he can see into other realities and shit.”

“I think two is the cutoff,” Ashton replies. “I heal fast and I’m a bug sometimes. I’m out, I don’t want anything else.” 

Luke scowls. “At least you got something useful. You know what I got? Fire and fury! Am I an angry person?”

“Not-“ Ashton cuts off and eyes him nervously. Like he’s afraid Luke will yell at him. “Not really? I think you have really quick bursts of emotions and then you go back to being neutral, but I don’t think you’re neutral is angry.” 

Luke huffs and leans back, arms wrapped around his legs. He tries to set his chin onto his knees, but instantly winces in pain. Ashton watches quietly as he struggles before continuing.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot we were talking about how I saved your face,” he shakes out his curls. “The lab opened back up so I could get some tools, but I think all your veins and stuff healed before I got to you. I just had to get all the extra blood out. Wasn’t hard. You’re fine, look at you!”

“I’m afraid to,” Luke admits. 

Ashton gives him a short glare before he nods towards the open door to the bathroom. Now that Luke glances around, he finds that all four doors at open and wonders why. Shouldn’t they be getting punished? He’d definitely been punished for Michael and Calum’s stupidity. He tries to open his jaw again but the stinging, aching pain shoots through his teeth and up his face, so he snaps his mouth shut. 

“Why aren’t we being punished?” He asks. 

“I’m not sure,” Ashton admits. Like he’s been thinking about this for a while. “I don’t think we should be entitled to the bedroom. I could see the bathroom so the place doesn’t get gross and the lab so I could make sure you didn’t die, and I’m really grateful we have the kitchen, but I don’t know why. The alarm hasn’t been going off, either.”

Luke considers it. Considers how all the doors are open. And how he’d been beaten and left for dead. “Huh,” he says. “I think- I think were expendable now.” 

“What?” Ashton blinks. “We can’t be expendable. We’re geniuses.”

“Yeah, they exploited that, already,” Luke gestures vaguely to the lab. His arm hurts. “Our knowledge was used for evil and now they don’t need us for anything other than taunting Michael and Calum. I don’t think they care if we die or live.”

“That can’t be right,” Ashton furrows his eyebrows and sets his palm in his chin. Luke’s still trying to determine why they’re on the cold warehouse ground if the bedroom and kitchen doors are open. Ashton shakes his head. “No, what if they need us well rested and smart. They want us to think critically, instead of doing stupid shit like, you know,” 

He gestures between the two of them and then holds his fingers about an inch apart. Luke assumes he’s describing a bumblebee. 

“They need our brains,” Ashton summarizes. 

Luke shakes his head and points to his jaw again. His arm still hurts. “They tried to kill me?” 

“They need my brain,” Ashton replies immediately, without even thinking. Luke scowls at him, so he shrugs. “It’s no secret I’m smarter than you. You’re a coffee jockey.”

“At a science center!” Luke scoffs. 

Ashton waves him off like Luke receiving a 4.6 by the time he’d graduated college meant absolutely nothing. He’d been the only non college student to land an internship at the science center, because the ceo saw potential in him and didn’t want it to be wasted. 

Luke wonders if the science center assumes they’d both quit. Maybe they had the sense to call l the police. 

“They know I like you, so they’re letting me keep you alive,” Ashton continues, like Luke hasn’t zoned out. “They need my sanity, but for what?”

“Hopefully something that also involves narcissism,” Luke mutters. Ashton glances at him shortly, so Luke tacks on, “You’re very good at it.” 

Ashton ignores him and rubs his chin some more, skipping past stubble that makes Luke squint at his chin suspiciously. He pulls his shaking hand up and touches his jaw delicately, but feels it’s smooth and virtually hairless. 

He squints at Ashton again. “Did you shave me?”

Ashton looks at him and shrugs. “I didn’t like your beard.”

“What?” Luke scoffs angrily. “Why the fuck not? I thought it looked nice!” 

He’d been avoiding shaving since he’d been kidnapped and, as a result, he had some soft, wonderful (albeit a little patchy) beard growing. It had been just slightly more than a five o’clock shadow, and Luke had loved it.

“You looked like a prepubescent teen,” Ashton says casually. Like it’s not a big deal. Luke is traumatized. 

He gasps dramatically and clutches a hand over his heart. His chest also seems to be throbbing. “I looked good!”

“No,” Ashton says simply. Luke scowls and slouches down, squirming back until he can lean against the wall and brood in peace. Ashton shrugs at him. “I wanted to monitor your bruising too, if that helps.” 

“Whatever,” Luke mumbles. Ashton rolls his eyes. Luke goes back to sulking and delicately running his fingertips across his jaw, while Ashton sighs heavily and looks around in boredom. Luke doesn’t know why they’re bored. He feels like they should be doing something. 

He frowns at Ashton, who shrugs. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”

“I will look at you,” Luke replies, then pauses. He crosses his arms over his pained chest and scowls. “And don’t read my mind like that. Those are my thoughts.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ashton rolls his eyes. “I’m not reading your mind. We’re just intune because you’re stupid and mixed our dna with mutant dna.” 

Luke continues scowling and rubs at his throbbing ribs. He mopes alone in his thoughts for a few silent minutes before his eyebrows slowly raise and he nods his head towards Ashton again. “Does that mean we’re related? We have the same dna now.”

“What?” Ashton looks at him in confusion. “Wha- no! No. We’re just-“

“Whack brothers,” Luke finishes.

“No!” Ashton yells at him. Luke goes back to scowling. “God, shut up! Just shut up, that’s all I’m asking!”

“Are we, like,” Luke pauses while Ashton glares at him. “Like, related to Michael and Calum? Because, technically, we stole their dna and put it into ourselves. So if you think about it-“ 

“No!” Ashton repeats. “Stop talking! No, we’re not related to each other, we’re not related to them, we’re not at all related to anyone! We just borrowed parts of them.”

“I’m not sure I want to borrow anymore dicks from them,” Luke says. Ashton groans and buried his face into his hands like he’s trying to hide, so Luke continues. “Like, they made me, you know? I don’t want the dick that made me anywhere near me.” 

Ashton looks like he wishes he was dead. “They did not make you! Your parents made you, we just- just, I don’t know- we upgraded you!” 

“I wish we’d used Cher’s dna,” Luke says honestly. Ashton throws himself back onto the warehouse floor and slaps his elbow over his eyes to groan loudly. It echoes. Luke ignores him. “Could you imagine being part Cher? I’d die, really. I’d just die.”

Ashton seems to have decided to play along. “You wouldn’t die, you’d be part Cher.”

“Ah!” Luke exclaims. “That’s true! What is she, like 106, now? Doesn’t look a day over 90.”

Ashton sighs heavily and shakes his fist in Luke’s general direction, like he’s silently cursing him out. Finally, he lets his hand drop and lets out a muttered, “Reckon I’d want Gaga dna.”

“See, now you’re thinking,” Luke nods. “Maybe some Kevin Bacon in there? I’m already related to Chris Hemsworth, so I feel like Kevin Bacon is a good addition to that blood. Or maybe John Stamos-“

Ashton moves his elbow to peer up at Luke and level him with an annoyed look. “You are not related to Chris Hemsworth.”

“I am,” Luke defends himself. “On my mother’s side. Bit of Hemsworth in there.”

“No, absolutely not,” Ashton waves his hand like he’s trying to symbolize putting his foot down. “That’s a lie, you are not part Hemsworth.”

“I am!” Luke insists. “We have the same name! Chris is my mom’s cousin’s uncle’s son in law!” 

“That doesn’t make you blood related!” Ashton gestures to him forcefully. “And don’t call him by his first name like that, it’s weird because you don’t know each other.”

Luke mutters out a quiet, “We do so,” but decides to cross his arms and turn his nose up in an attempt to ignore Ashton. He’s not sure how long he can, given that they’re the only two people in the entire vicinity, except for the occasional rogue guard. He looks out the window, but finds Ashton is too, and quickly turns to look in the exact opposite direction of the window.

Ashton huffs at him and then mumbles, “I’m related to Miley Cyrus.”

“Absolutely not!” Luke shouts. “No, you can’t have that!” Ashton scowls and tightens his elbow around his eyes to avoid looking at Luke anymore. Their silence lasts about thirty seconds before the one door leading outside creaks open with a loud click and the scruff of some boots against gravel. Luke turns to the door in time to watch two guards walk in, clad in their typical bulletproof vests, y’all combat boots, and holding a large gun across both their chests. 

Luke feels a shiver run down his spine and doesn’t even have the time to question why before a massive, freezing cold nose bumps into his temple like it’s trying to comfort him, even as it comes across more bumbling and clumsy. He turns and goes cross eyed a little trying to follow the nose up to meet big, brown eyes and shaggy brown fur.

Ashton’s a bear. 

“Did you-“ Luke points at him and smirks. “Did you just turn into a mama bear?” The bear huffs in response. 

Luke turns back and finds that the two guards have stopped in their tracks a few yards away, eyebrows raised, looking mildly amused by the situation. Their hands have tightened around their guns, however. Luke wonders how expendable the two of them are. 

“Down boy,” the guard on the right holds a hand out towards Ashton, who sits obediently and lets out a loud breath through his nose. His paws are the size of Luke’s head and he’s truly loving Ashton’s power. 

The guard on the left takes her eyes off of Ashton and fits Luke with a short glare. “Both of you be ready to go by the morning.” 

“How do we know when it’s morning?” Luke asks, nodding towards the window. “Seems like it’s always daytime nowadays.”

She looks annoyed by the grunting noises Ashton is making through his big fucking teeth. She glances at him before returning her eyes to Luke. “We’ll tell you.”

“Great,” Luke mutters. 

Without any warning, the man next to her takes three long strides towards him before landing a heavy boot in his chest. Luke is shoved back into the wall with a puff of breath escaping his lips, chest throbbing even more than before. Ashton grunts again, but the man simply whips his gun to the side before bringing the barrel down on Luke’s left shoulder. It crunches, he screams. He grabs his bicep and holds it tight to stop the burning from shooting down his arm like a thousand needles

Ashton let’s out a low growl and stands to full height, probably eight feet tall, before lumbering over to the guard with heavy feet. He doesn’t attack, only sets himself down forcefully in front of Luke and bares his sharp teeth. 

The guard snorts and shakes his head. “Be ready by the morning you fucking idiots,” he eyes up Ashton and tacks on. “We need humans. Or else.” 

The two turn and leave quietly, with no other altercations, so Luke starts toying with his shattered shoulder with hot tears silently pouring down his face all of a sudden. He feels panic rise in his chest, but somehow knows it’s not his own. It feels too foreign. The pain is so intense, he’s starting to see double. Two bears is not better than one. 

He furrows his eyebrows, body swaying, eyes crossing, as his entire body screams in physical pain. Ashton’s turned around but he’s still a big, soft bear, so Luke navies forward using his free hand and leans into him, leaning against his warm chest. He buries a hand into the coarse, brown fur covering Ashton’s chest, knowing there’s get sticking to his wet cheeks, but he doesn’t care. He can barely see his own shaking hand. 

He manages to get out a slurred, “Ash?” before he passes out.


	18. Find Yourself Something to Hold Onto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from city in a garden by fall out boy I think?

Michael is tired. He’s got a hand resting lightly over the bandages taped to his chest, the other draped over the edge of the couch while his knuckles brush the rug. Luke had picked this rug out at a flea market and Michael absolutely fucking hates the green and blue stitched mess, but he brushes his fingers along the hard bristles anyway. And mopes.

“You know what?” He announces, voice loud like the apartment isn’t one room. Calum visibly startles where he’s standing in the kitchen and knocks his head against the top of the freezer. “I miss Luke!”

“Great,” Calum replies as he jerks out of the freezer. He’s got a bag of peas in one hand and uses the other to slam the door shut. The whole unit shakes, so he holds the peas out like he’s going to stop it. When it stops moving, he turns around to face the couch with a frown. “You know what? I miss Luke, too.” 

“Really?” Michael asks. “You’re lying, no one misses Luke. I’m just contractually obligated.” 

“You’re not married?” Calum phrases it like a question, like he’s not entirely sure. Michael isn’t either, he’s never actually bothered to check. Calum shakes his head and tosses the bag of peas through the room, watching it land with a wet sort of thump onto the floor next to Michael’s hand. “Anyway. No one is making you miss him, you just have feelings. Like a human being.” 

“Also I watched him die,” Michael tacks on. “Like, he died right in front of me in a real Jack and Rose Titanic scene.” 

Calum rolls his eyes and crosses over to the couch when Michael makes no move to pick up the bag of frozen peas. “He didn’t die,” he bends down and snatches up the bag, then drops it onto Michael’s bandages. Michael flinches in pain. “He’s not dead, I’m sure he just broke his jaw and got kicked around a bit. If he’s got our dna, he’s healed by now.” 

Michael shrugs as he remembers Luke bursting into flames. But they knew he could do that. Michael shifts the bag of peas further onto the bullet wound and lets out the most dramatic cry of pain he can possibly manage, but Calum doesn’t seem even mildly interested in the noise. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and flops down on the edge of the bed, arm braced behind him and legs kicking the edge as he swings them. 

“Hey, we never talked about Ashton,” Michael says. “What the fuck was-“

“Spoke,” Calum interrupts. 

Michael pauses and stares at him until he looks up again. “What?”

“We never spoke about Ashton,” Calum corrects. “Talked is bad English. Did you finish school or did you just kind of go sometimes?” 

“I know how to kill myself now,” Michael threatens. “Shut up or I’ll do it.” Calum holds his hand up in surrender before dropping it back down to scroll through his phone again, so Michael turns back to his original question. “What the fuck was up with Ashton?”

Calum tightens his fingers around his phone. “I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“First of all, speak,” Michael points at him. “Second, I’ve got some theories.” 

Calum sighs heavily and locks his phone as he realizes there’s no possible way to get out of this, short of leaping out the window and escaping into the night. But Michael knows he won’t, not when he’s laying injured with peas over a bullet wound for the first time in his life and Calum has a soft spot for injured people. Shifting his arm forward, Calum drops so he’s laying all the way on the bed, feet still kicking over the edge where his knees are hooked. 

“If we have to speak about it, I’ll go first,” he offers. Michael is pleased by the conversation. He can’t really get up, so he needs to find amusement somewhere. Calum sighs and rubs his eyes before dropping his hands on either side of him. “My best bet is that he got the flying thing. At first, I was like “ah, no, the kidnappers rekidnapped ashton,” but the more I think about this, the more I think they didn’t know where he was either. They looked just as confused when he disappeared. My second thought was that he was invisible, but Luke said he’d gone up.”

“Interesting,” Michael hums. He knows exactly what had happened, but he wants to hear more of Calum’s theories before he says as much. “And how does that make you feel?”

“Not great!” Calum admits while throwing his hands in the air angrily. They drop back down onto his stomach. “I’m so fucking worried for him constantly, and now I find out that not only can he fly, but he also left Luke there to die! That’s not Ashton.” Michae scoffs, so he quickly tacks on, “Not that Luke’s dead.”

“He is And we both know it,” Michael replies. “Me and you? We killed Luke. How’s that make you feel?” 

“Bad!” Calum yells. “I feel bad, because they’re both dead and it’s completely our fault!” Michael’s next door neighbor pounds on the wall, so he slaps his mouth shut and crosses his arms over his chest, staring up at the ceiling angrily. 

Michael readjusts the peas on his chest and flinches while they sit in silence for all of thirty seconds. It’s too long for Michael. “Look, Ashton’s not dead. He’s a shapeshifter, he turned into a bumblebee and got up to the rafters. I saw him before I got shot.”

Calum lifts himself up on one elbow again and raises an eyebrow. His mouth drops open in surprise, but nothing comes out for a solid ten seconds. Michael pushes the bag of peas against his bandages again. “Wait, What?” Calum finally says. “He’s- what? No.” 

“Yes,” Michael rolls his eyes and sets his head onto the arm rest of the couch more comfortably. “Can you make me some soup? Thanks.”

Calum doesn’t move, but he does close his mouth to fix Michael with an annoyed glare. 

“Anyway, I saw him zap into a little bumblebee while he and Luke were running,” Michael continues. Calum seems to take the information as payment and stands to move towards the kitchen. “Luke was yelling at him, so I don’t think he’s done it before. I don’t think he knew how to turn back into human Ashton to stop those guards from murdering Luke.”

Calum bends down to pull a pot from the cabinet, then pauses with a starry eyed look on his face, staring blankly into the distance while holding the handle of the pot. “Huh,” he mutters. 

Michael watches him patiently, but he can only go so long without soup, so he snaps his fingers to get Calum’s attention, then points to his chest. “Excuse me, recent first time injuree here. Not healing any faster.”

Calum shakes his head and turns to flick on the stove. He roots around until he can find a can of chicken noodle soup (Luke bought that, Michael gets sad again), and sets it next to the counter. 

“We have to find him,” Calum says. 

Michael abruptly realizes that this is no longer a find “them” mission. Luke is lost to him, Luke is dead. He wonders if they’ll get the body back. He slouches into the couch and pushes the peas into his chest, digging and pressing, until the pain pulses up his spine and gives him a dull migraine in the back of his skull. He’d killed Luke. 

With that thought and that thought alone, he pulls the bag off his chest and lets it drop down to the floor, landing loosely on the rug Luke had bought. With fingers shaking from the after effects of the pain, he picks at the tape holding down the bandages and rips them off, tossing the bloody gauze in the direction of the peas. The blood is still leaking out, but the bullet hole itself is slowly beginning to close by itself, thanks to his healing. It’s slowed down due to the toxins, but still advanced. 

As soon as he’d started seizing in the warehouse, he’d blacked out a little and awoken on his own kitchen floor, with Calum digging into his chest. Thered been tears streaming down his face while he dug into the bullet wound, until he could find and rip out the bullet, tossing it aside with a clatter on the tile floor. He’d muttered something about being lucky and slapped Michael back into full conciousness while wiping tears off his pink cheeks. 

Michael glances down and sees the new skin forming, still delicate and new. He reaches up, ignoring the pain that echoes down his arm, and wraps his fingers around the bullet on the side table above his head. It’s silver, and kind of burns his fingers when he grabs it. He can’t even begin to imagine what had happened to Calum’s fingers. 

The bullet is still stained with his blood, but he doesn’t bother cleaning it before sticking the fully intact thing directly into the open wound, tearing through the newly formed skin building around it. The stinging, searing pain is immediate and intense, shooting through his whole body as the bullet slips back into the hole it had burned through Michael’s chest a few hours prior. 

There’s a hand on his in an instant, fingers wrapping around his so he clutches the end of the bullet tighter. Michael fights them all the way, but the grip tighter and pull back, ripping the weapon out of Michael’s chest before letting go. Calum rips the bullet away and flinches as he clutches it tight in his palm. 

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Calum demands. Michael wants to tell him to let the bullet go, but he’s forgotten how to speak and his entire body is shaking violently. Calum glances between his face and his own hands, completely white knuckles, before he says, “Tell me what you were doing or I’ll swallow it.”

“I- I- I-“ Michael can’t fucking speak. 

Calum’s crying again, but this time it isn’t silent. He’s crouched next the couch, sobbing as loud as he can, looking awful as he does so, and still clutching the fucking bullet. He sobs again and screams, “Tell me!”

“Kill myself,” Michael manages to get out between twitches. “Drop it!”

Calum drops it and it rolls under the couch. When he spreads his hands, they’re burned with shiny red marks and leaking puss from a few open wounds. He sobs for a while and holds his hands out, dropping his he’d down to rest against Michael’s hip like he physically needs to be close. Michael continues twitching for what feels like hours, until he finally shakes off the odd feeling of not being in control of his own body. 

When he finally can, he grabs Calum’s wrists and stares at his burned hands angrily. “What’s wrong with you? Why would you do that? You’re so fucking stupid!”

“You care about me,” Calum sniffs without looking up. “I can’t threaten you with anything else except my own pain.”

“You idiot,” Michael says. “You absolute fucking idiot. Don’t think I won’t take you back to that reality where you have an accent and Ashton doesn’t love you. I’ll leave you there, too.” 

Calum glances up at him with red eyes and frowns. “Take me to the one that’s just like this one, but Ashton is safe.”

“No,” Michael replies. He smacks Calum’s open palm, just to make him cry out in pain, and quickly grabs his wrist again to hold him in place. Calum’s forehead knocks against his hip again. Michael scowls at him. “You’re really going to make me give you a pep talk?”

“No,” Calum mutters, sounding absolutely miserable. 

“I just tried to kill myself and you need the pep talk,” Michael replies. He releases Calum’s hands and shoved them away from him forcefully. “Really? This is how you treat your good friend? Dare I say best friend? My boyfriend just died, but let me put that on hold so that I can give you a pep talk, okay? How’s that sound?”

“Whatever,” Calum shrugs a little, but makes no move to lift his head or act even mildly interested in the conversation. He sniffs again, a bit over dramatically in Michael’s opinion, to remind Michael that he has been crying over him. 

Michael sighs at him. “Do you know why I stay in this reality?” 

Calum manages, by some grace of fucking god, Michael’s assuming, to lift his head again and peer up with big, red rimmed, still teary eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just looks miserable and sniffs while tears dry on his cheeks. 

“I stay here because I lied,” Michael admits. “This reality is my favorite you. Because you are so sweet and brave and valiant. You’re a literal superhero. And you are so, so happy in this reality. In others, you get depression, you kill yourself in so many, and in this one- you’re so happy. So I stay in the reality, because I know you’re happy, and because this Calum, the superhero that stops petty thefts without letting fame go his big, dumb head, is my favorite Calum.”

Calum sets his elbow on the edge of the couch, then rests his cheek against the back of his wrist. “Me?”

“You,” Michael confirms with a short nod. He pauses, then tacks on, “Also, Luke likes me in this one, but that’s really just a bonus.” 

Calum frowns as he considers that, staring blankly at the open wound on Michael’s chest, gradually leaking more and more blood. He seems to get his mind in order as he shakes his head. “But I’m not happy.”

“Not right now,” Michael agrees with a shrug. “But overall? You are. And at the risk of sounding like a liberal mother that just found out her only child is gay, I will do whatever it takes to make you happy. I will fight anyone, I swear to go, I’d die if it meant you’d be happy.”

Calum furrows his eyebrows and leans back to stare at his open palms. 

“Alright, I got carried away,” Michael admits as he waves his hand. “I lost my head, but I can promise you that I will help you get your happiness back before I try to kill myself again.”

“You’re stupid,” Calum tells him. 

Michael shrugs and nods his head towards the kitchen. “Finish making my soup.”

Calum sighs heavily and holds out his hands again, shoving them into Michael’s face until he’s forced to poke at one of the more prominent burns. Calum flinches And Rips his hands away. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but something catches Michael’s eye. Out the window, behind Calum’s head, is a bright light. Brighter than anything that should be shining on this side of Brooklyn. Michael stares out the broken and shattered window (maybe he should put in a work order, there’s a lot of moths in his room) hard enough that Calum shuts his mouth and turns around to look. 

“What is that?” He asks in confusion. He’s got goosebumps all down his arms when Michael checks. They carefully help each other up and venture over to the window cautiously. Michael grabs the gun under the couch as he goes, holding it tightly, just in case. When they get to the window, Michael stands on the left side and gestures for Calum to stand on the right forcefully until they’re both pressed to the wall and able to peer out through the shards of glass. 

There’s a bright light being projected onto the building adjacent to them, appearing to come from miles away, towards the main highway leading out of the center of the city. It’s the brightest thing Michael’s seen apart from the sun. He squints at it, but even he manages to make out the very obvious bumblebee shape in the dead center. He hears Calum gasp in shock. As fast as the light had appeared, it disappears, seemingly shut off all of a sudden. Michael has a good idea of where it had come from. 

He blinks at the suddenly very dark building in surprise and mutters, “Ashton.”

Calum’s still staring at the building with his mouth dropped open when Michael glances at him, but they don’t get enough time to discuss what had just happened. The hair on Calum’s arms is still standing straight up. There’s a shuffling of boots from down that hall that slowly get closer and closer, followed by The thud of something being dropped directly in front of the apartment door. Michael clutches the gun tighter in his hands and gives Calum a glance, but Calum’s just staring at the door, completely unarmed, apparently waiting for something to happen. 

There’s a knock at the door.


	19. What I Would Do To Be With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from la belle femme by hunny!!

"You know what?" Luke says abruptly. He sets the spoon down on the counter and glares. "I don't like that you can shape shift."

The baby in front of him giggles and claps his hands. Ashton's making fun of him. Like a dick. A real tiny dick. He's actually kind of cute as a baby, mostly just big cheeks and a cute little nose. Luke had found a rubber band and made little ponytails out of the wispy hair on his head when Ashton had first shrunken into a baby. He was having a good time. 

Not anymore, however. 

Luke scowls and picks up the spoon again. Ashton screeches, so he shrugs and hands off the spoon to allow him to scoop his own Cheerios. 

"You're a real dick, you know that?" Luke tells him. Ashton giggles and spits a cheerio at him. "I'm wasting away to absolutely nothing, and you're eating Cheerios. I could die at any given moment."

Ashton picks the spit out Cheerio off of the kitchen counter and shoves into his mouth to gnaw at it. He's only got like, two teeth, Luke has no idea how he's eating them. Overall, since they'd discovered Ashton's power, Luke has been conscious for about 15 hours. Between various sessions of passing out, he's been alert enough to understand why and when Ashton shape shifts. 

When Luke was afraid, Ashton had changed into a bear. When he was afraid, he'd changed into something with wings, when Luke was sad, he'd changed into a puppy. Luke figures Ashton shifts and changes based on what his subconscious brain thinks the situation requires. For example, when Luke needed a puppy. 

The baby thing, however, is new. Luke does not want or need a baby. Well, maybe he wouldn't mind one, but absolutely not in this situation. And he especially does not want a baby with Ashton's mannerisms. He has no fucking clue why Ashton had turned into a baby. He's cute, though, Luke will give him that. He figures baby Ashton is about eight months old as he can stand on his little feet for minutes at a time and crawl faster than anything Luke's ever seen in his life, but he has yet to take steps of his own. 

Baby Ashton tosses a cheerio with shockingly good aim and the small piece of cereal bounces off Luke's forehead and sends Ashton into hysterical giggles. Luke sighs heavily. 

"You're a nuisance," Luke tells him. Ashton sticks his hand in the bowl of cereal on the counter and splashes milk everywhere. Luke sighs at him. "Look at this shit. Do you genuinely think I'm going to clean up this fucking mess?"

Ashton makes a shrill sound and splashes in the bowl in response.

"I'm not," Luke tells him. "I won't, this is on you, little fucker. You better turn back into big Ashton before this milk spoils." 

Baby Ashton screams and kicks his little foot out, sending the bowl of milk all over Luke's chest. It drops down his body and he yells at top volume, grabbing the bowl and whipping it across the room. It lands with a clatter on the tile floor as Luke heaves, clenching his fists tightly as he glares at the abandoned bowl and the milk splattered across the floor. 

Luke doesn't realize he's on fire until he glances back to Ashton and finds the stupid baby staring up at him with big eyes, mouth dropped open in surprise. There's drool on his chin. Ashton sticks out his bottom lip pitifully. 

"No!" Luke holds a flaming hand up, but that seems to make the situation worse. Ashton starts screaming and crying as loud as humanly possible, with big tears rolling down his pink cheeks and his head thrown back dramatically. Luke reaches towards him, but Ashton just screams even louder and tries to wiggle away from him. "No, Ashton, come on!" Luke tries.

Ashton continues screaming and crying while Luke flicks on the sink with a few, quick, darting hand movements. When it's completely on and the handles are only mildly singed, he shoves his hands underneath the stream. The chill shoots through him almost immediately so he shivers, but the fire dancing along his skin is quickly extinguished. Luke sighs as he turns back around and snatches Ashton off the counter. 

"This is so fucked up," he mutters as he gently cradles the baby in his arms. Ashton continues yelling. "Hey! Shh, look, it's fine, everything's fine! Do you want more fucking cereal, is that what you want? Why are you yelling?"

Ashton screeches once before going back to his pitiful sobs. Luke doesn't know what to do with a fucking baby. Specifically one that is technically a grown man. He starts doing some sort of instinctual bouncing movement and shushing noise, which seems to work for some, unknown reason, as Ashton begins to calm down as soon as he starts. When he's finally reduced to soft sniffles, but mainly a happy cooing noise, Luke sighs again and stops bouncing. 

Ashton screams. Luke continues bouncing. 

He hates this, he really does. He thinks there can't possibly be anything he could hate more. Unfortunately, as soon as the thought runs through his head, he hears the door click open and a few loud voices echo through the warehouse. 

Luke's free hand goes up to his still bruised jaw immediately as he looks down at Ashton. "Okay, little bumblebee," he mumbles. "It would be great if you could be Ashton again. Or, like, a lion. Or anything besides a helpless little- I don't know, chicken nugget fucker."

The baby blows a bubble and makes a grabby hand at Luke's face. Luke sighs, but keeps bouncing and rocking. The guards find their way into the kitchen area eventually and stop in the doorway. Luke realizes they're the same two guards that had kicked him around last time. And the time before. 

The woman looks at baby Ashton and then turns back to Luke. "Change him back."

"I can't," Luke replies miserably. "He doesn't want to go back, I can't force him." Ashton coos and giggles, so Luke glances down at him with a raised eyebrow, then flicks his eyes up to the woman. "Ashton seems to think you are with child. Congratulations."

Her hand flies to her stomach as she shoots Ashton a murderous glare. Luke hums and wonders how the fuck Ashton knew that. Intuitive little shit. The man raises a baton threateningly, so Luke adverts his eyes. 

"Let's go," he says. 

Luke wants to know where they're going, but his aching ribs tell him he probably shouldn't ask. He glances down at the baby in his arms with a pleading look. Ashton shoves a hand into his mouth and slobbers all over it. With a sigh, Luke obediently follows the woman, Ashton still cradled in his arms, into the main warehouse. He's lead outside, where at least thirty other guards are standing around with massive weapons. Luke is suddenly very aware that they are both naked.

Luke clutches the baby tighter to his chest when several pairs of eyes fall upon them, trying to shield Ashton from their gaze. He's ushered into the back of a black Escalade, where a thick, black bag is placed onto his head. Cold hands try to pry Ashton away, but he holds tightly. 

"He's a baby," he bargains. "He can't see anything. His vision goes about two feet at this point." 

The hands release him, but Luke doesn't relax. The mans voice from the front seat says, "What, you believe him?"

"He's a genius," the woman replies. "Besides, look at him." Luke manages to wrestle one arm out from under Ashton to lift up the bottom of his bag and peer down. Ashton has apparently decided it's nap time and fallen asleep peacefully in his arm. The woman shoves Luke in the head, so he drops the edge of the bag and holds Ashton tightly with both arms, again. He's surprised to find that he's still bouncing his arms a bit, but he's too afraid to stop, now. 

The car door slams and Luke is left alone in the backseat. He assumes, anyway. There's the unmistakable sound of the woman, presumably, climbing into the front seat before the engine starts up, again. Luke fumbles around until he can put the seatbelt on blindly, while the car begins rolling down the gravel road. He tries to keep track of where they're going, but the drive is long and the turns are too subtle, he's lost within twenty minutes. A cd of some band he's never heard plays softly from the front seat while the two guards chat idly. 

They talk about the weather, anything mildly unimportant enough for Luke to tune out, until he hears something interesting. 

"We're going to get bitched at," the man says. Luke perks up. 

The woman seems to turn in her seat, so Luke tries to act inconspicuous. "Why? All they said is that Ashton needs to be there."

"He's a fucking baby," the man scoffs. Luke's arms tighten around Ashton, again. "Not to mention, we were just supposed to kill the other one. He's not going to be happy." 

Luke flinches and hopes to god he's not the other one. 

"If anyone can make Ashton change back, it's this one," the woman turns back around. It occurs to Luke that they have no idea what his name is. Ashton was right, he was unimportant. At this point, they needed Ashton alive, while Luke was just being kept as a pet to keep Ashton from losing his mind. They're connected so tightly at this point, Luke wonders how Ashton will feel physically when he gets killed. 

He's already seen Ashton grab at his ribs and wheeze while Luke had coughed up blood from his injured lungs. He wonders if Ashton will die, too. Just from sheer heartbreak and pain. 

When the car finally rolls to a stop, Luke is ripped out by a hand on his elbow, and Ashton begins to squirm. Luke starts bouncing again as he stumbles blindly across gravel and into a cold building. He can feel he's being led forward, into an elevator, forward again across blue carpeting that he can see from the bottom of his bag, and finally his shoulder knocks into a door frame and a heavy door is slammed shut behind him. 

The bag is ripped off of Luke's head and he finds himself in some sort of control room with all sorts of screens and motherboards and shit. Luke may be a genius, but he has a hard time using his iPhone. He has no idea why they've been brought here. There's several guards milling about, all dressed in the typical black armor and bullet proof vests, holding large guns and various sorts. The woman that had led Luke in stands straighter than Luke's ever seen her stand and says, "Sir."

Luke follows her eyes and finds that there is a single man standing in front of them, about thirty feet away, facing the largest monitor in the room. It's takes up at least half of the wall that's directly adjacent to them, and seems to be showing a general map of the world. He's older, balding, and has wrinkles carved deep into his face when he turns around. It would be an old white dude causing all of these fucking problems. 

He tilts his head at the man, who is suddenly angry at him. He's glaring, arms crossed over his chest, with his thick eyebrows pulled down like a cartoon character. "What the hell is this?" He demands, gesturing to the two of them. "You were supposed to kill him and bring me Ashton."

Luke is not at all surprised that this dickhead knows Ashton's name and not his. 

"There's been a mild road block," the woman admits. "Ashton does not know how to properly utilize his newest capabilities. Luckily, we do know that he shifts based on the needs of the people he cares for. This- this blonde," she gestures towards Luke, who shrugs easily. "Is the one he cares for. Please feel free to observe." 

Luke doesn't like the sound of that. He clutches the baby tighter in his arms and glances down, but Ashton seems to be offering no advice for the time being. Within seconds of the statement, there's fingers in Luke's hair that grip and pull sharply, forcing a gasp of pain from him as he stumbles back. The man that had driven them shoves him to the ground and rests a hard, dirty boot on his forehead. 

Luke's breathing picks up as he darts his eyes up to the body hovering over him, eyes growing when he sees a baton being pulled from the mans belt. He doesn't dare light on fire right now, not when there's a baby resting on his chest. Ashton seems to be vibrating angrily, like a little ball of pure fury, but he hasn't shifted in the slightest. The baton comes down hard on Luke already bruised thigh and he cries out in pain. 

The black weapon is jammed into his broken ribs twice while Luke screams and cries in a completely hot blooded panic, before it's aimed at his jaw again. Luke panics and tries to squirm away, but finds he's locked into place with the boot on his forehead. He glances down at Ashton for a moment and knows he doesn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him as a normal man, but he's shaking more and more as Luke screams in pain. 

Luke looks back at the baton being pulled above the mans head and squeezes his eyes shut. He's ready to accept his fate and just die already so Ashton's off the hook for the day, but Ashton is not as willing. After a lot of squirming in his arms, an adult Ashton lands flat against Luke's chest and quickly scrambles to stand. Luke whips his eyes open in time to watch Ashton snatch the baton away and whip it across the room wildly. Still ass naked. 

Luke heaves through the blood filling his lungs as he carefully lifts himself up into a sitting position as soon as the boot is removed from his face. He coughs and splatters blood across the gray carpeting, but Ashton merely gives him a pitying glance before he starts making demands. 

"What the fuck are we doing here?" He asks. "How did we get here? Someone get me some god damn clothes." 

A pile of clothes is instantly handed to him by a nearby guard. The entire room is staring at him, so Luke doesn't know why he's even bothering. At this point, everyone's seen his dick. Luke is offended that he was not immediately offered clothing, so he slowly raises a finger, only for the guard that had just hit him to reach down and grab it. He twists hard, snapping it audibly, and Luke lets out some sort of pained gurgle. 

Ashton is on the man in half a second. He sticks a finger into his ear and pulls, smashing the guards head into his knee and then shoving him away. Strange fighting tactic, but Luke is willing to roll with it. 

Ashton shakes out the boxers he was handed and steps into them as he says, "Lets make one thing clear. If anyone even looks at him again, I'll fucking kill you, okay? Now someone answer my question, why the fuck am I here?"

The guard that he'd attacked stumbles to stand, looking a little dizzy, but nods even though the statement is not directed to him. Ashton shoves on the hoodie and then tosses Luke the sweatpants. He wants to say something sarcastic about how he can't lift himself up off the wall he's leaning against enough to even reach the pants, but all that comes out is a thick cough and a lot of blood. He spits it out and looks up at Ashton, again. 

Luke knows what he's thinking immediately when they lock eyes and manages to get out a croaky sounding, "Don't."

"Good performance," the single man across the room without any weapons begins to slow clap with a small smile on his face. "Very valiant. Ashton, you're here bec-"

"I'll just stop you there," Ashton takes his eyes off Luke and turns to face the small, balding man. Luke thinks he looks like Danny Devito, but somehow even worse. "I don't- like, I really do not give a single shit about why you're about to say, but I'll cut you a really easy deal. I'll do whatever the fuck you want, and you let Luke go, go it?"

"Absolutely not," the man says. "What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"A stupid one," Ashton replies. Luke questions if he is actually a genius or if he just puts out confident vibes. 

"Why would I do that? I'll just kill him and force you to do whatever I want, anyway," the man tells him. He looks like he's getting angry again. 

"You'll do it, because you want me to do something," Ashton looks calm and relaxed, because he knows exactly what kind of leverage he has here. "Because Luke is my- my brother. Unofficial, don't print that. We are connected. And if Luke dies, just know that I'm going to die."

Luke wants to yell "ha!" because he knew Ashton was awake during the car ride and reading his mind. Like an asshole. 

The man looks conflicted. He probably knows how stubborn Ashton is, judging from the unimpressed scowl on his face. He knows Ashton would rather die than do anything for him, and he knows Ashton is completely willing to die to make a point. 

"No," Luke wheezes out. Ashton shushes him, but doesn't turn around. 

The silence in the room is deafening. There's thirty people in such close proximity, but no one makes a sound. Luke is suddenly aware that his breathing is making a strange clicking noise and squelching quietly. The thought kind of makes him panic, but that only makes him breathe faster and he looses his ability to breathe the more he panics. He coughs and spits out the blood filling his mouth. 

Finally, the little man across the room sighs and gestures towards Luke. "Take him away."

"Wait," Ashton holds up a hand to stop the guards from closing in. "You take him directly to Michael's apartment. I'll know if you didn't. You make sure he's safe, you know what will happen if he dies. And let me say goodbye."

"Fine," the man spits. "Thirty seconds. Starting now."

Ashton darts over and crouches next to Luke, like he's worried if he takes longer than thirty seconds, they'll take the deal away from him. He makes quick work of snatching up the sweatpants and helping Luke pull them on. Luke's leg aches and the muscle pulls tight when he moves it. When they finally get the sweatpants on, Ashton cups the unbruised side of his jaw and stares at him with a purpose. He knows exactly where they are and where they were. Luke knows exactly where they are and where they were. Luke was stupid for thinking he had baby eyesight when he was a baby. 

"Listen," Ashton looks away to eye up his unnaturally deflated chest. "You get to the hospital as soon as you get home, okay? I don't want you to step foot in that shithole. You'll get a roach in your wounds. Is that what you want?"

"You're stupid," Luke manages to get out between heaving breaths. "Don't do this." 

Ashton shrugs and pats his cheek as the guard next to them clears his throat. "I'm stupid but at least I'm stupid in the smart way, unlike you."

"That's what you want your last words to me to be?" Luke mumbles. Ashton reaches forward with a sad smile and brushes dirt off his forehead from the indents the boot had left. Luke gets calmed immediately and hears the words "I love you" in his head, though no words are spoken. Luke scoffs. "Coward." 

"Shut up," Ashton replies. "Look at me, I save your life, I tell you I love you, and this is the thanks I get? Asshole!" 

Luke coughs at him and splatters blood on his face. Ashton stands abruptly as he wipes his face off with the sleeve of his hoodie. He steps back and nods towards the guards. "Take him home." 

The bag is shoved back over Luke's head and he's lead out of the room.


	20. This Was A Home Once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from this was a home once by bad suns

Luke is in surgery for six hours, because they can't figure out what the fuck he is. And he lays on the table, completely covered in flames, for an hour before Michael thinks to march in and drop a bucket of water on him. Which desterilizes the room, so the doctors have to start completely over and scrub everything vigorously, but at least Luke isn't on fire, anymore.

Collectively, Luke is physically operated on for two hours. His left lung was popped, and he'd had several broken bones that need to be reset and covered in plasters to heal. When he's out, he lays in his hospital bed and scowls while requesting the pudding no one is allowed to give him. 

Calum hates this. He hates every single part of this, because Luke hasn't told them how he'd gotten back. He'd only been dropped at their door by two guards, who Michael had effectively murdered before Calum could ask any questions. By that point, he was half dead, so he'd only managed to get out "Call the hospital," before he'd passed out completely. 

Calum also hates that it's Luke that had been given back. Why not Ashton? He'd been gone longer. He'd been taken first, he should have been returned first. Which, of course, begs the question; why was Luke returned at all? 

Luke's laying in bed with his arms crossed over his chest, scowling while Michael continuously offers him various electrolyte infused beverage. Michael shoves a Red Gatorade into his hands, so Luke throws it across the room and croaks out, "yeet."

The bottle rolls to a stop at Calum's feet where he's sitting in the chair. Michael glances at it before turning back to Luke. "You can't just- you yote that bitch! You can't do that, you have to drink it."

"I will yeet what I please," Luke crosses his arms, flinches, and uncrosses them quickly.  

Calum glances up from the bottle of Gatorade and looks at Luke again. "Can I ask something?" 

"No," Michael replies. "Look at him, he almost died. Leave him alone. Besides, he's cranky."

Luke huffs. "Have you never seen a movie with, like, a hospital scene? They always get pudding, and now I'm in the hospital, so where is my pudding? Where the fuck is my fucking pudding? I almost died, yeah, you're right, I did almost die, I should get- no, listen, I deserve the luxury of a fucking pudding packet. Do you know when the last time I ate was?"

Calum stays quiet, because he does make a point. Luke had been kidnapped for weeks, and he has no idea how bad the conditions were in that place. Judging by the videos he was shown on that rock guards phone, they weren't great. Ashton looked starved. 

"Actually," Luke looks at the clock hanging about the closed door and starts counting off on his fingers. "Alright, honestly? Like nine hours ago, but that is absolutely not the point. I became a mutant, and I didn't get the healing property. I got a burning body, and a really freaky, deep connection with Ashton, but I didn't get anything else! I deserve-"

"Wait, What?" Calum cuts him off. "You what?"

"Want pudding!" Luke finishes. "It's in all the movies!" 

"This isn't a movie, it's a book," Michael chimes in. "Not even. It's virtual." 

Luke gives him a concerned glance before looking back at Calum, who holds a hand up like he's trying to get them both to shut up. "I could not have been more clearly not giving a fuck about your dietary needs. Also, it's jello in a plastic cup, and you can't fucking have that because your stomach was lacerated because you don't know how to get beat up."

"Wha-" Luke manages to get out.

Michael makes a sort of rolling motion by tucking his arms into his chest, hands over his head, and bringing up one knee. "It's a tuck and roll thing. You have to protect your guts."

"God, shut up," Calum snaps as he drops his hand to his thigh. "Shut the fuck up. Luke, obviously I was talking about the freaky connection with Ashton. What is that?"

Luke seems to be stuck on the tuck and roll comment as he's muttering under his breath about strained muscles and trying to touch his elbows together in front of him. When he glances up again, he drops his arms back into the bed and shrugs. "Okay, here's the tea. You know how I am called stupid constantly?"

"Yes, of course," Calum nods. Michael mumbles his agreement from the other side of the room. 

"It turns out, you guys are not going to believe this one- I actually am stupid," he holds out a hand and glances between the two of them like he's waiting for something, but they merely blink at him in response. "Wow, really? You seriously think I'm stupid? Whatever, okay, any-fucking-way. I actually got mine and Ashton's blood, like, mixed? With the mutant serum? And now- Ashton called me his brother, not to brag."

"Was he scamming?" Michae replies. "Was it for a scam? I can't imagine he genuinely meant that. Calum?"

"No, obviously not," Calum agrees with a quick nod. "He had to be playing off some emotion, there had to be other people in the room that he was trying to scam." 

They both turn back to Luke, who huffs and kicks his feet a little in his hospital bed. "Yes, it was for a scam, but that's not the point! He called me his brother, and I'm going to keep that title."

"Alright, sure," Calum shrugs. "Whatever, just keep explaining about your scam bro."

"No!" Luke whines. Michael pats at his greasy hair, only to be smacked away while Luke scowls. "Be nice to me, I almost died for you assholes!"

"Uh," Calum holds up a finger and sits forward in his chair to fix Luke with an unimpressed look. "Also, lets not forget you made an army of mutants with our dna. Let's not forget that you genuinely did that. Like, that's a thing you did. If I listed off all the things you've done ever in your life, that would be number one."

"Things he did: that," Michael echoes.

"I-" Luke looks sad suddenly, but Calum can't find it in him to care, because Luke is alive and the three of them are all injured in some way, and there's no physical way for them to stop an army of mutants. Luke frowns and starts picking at his nails. "I did that because Ashton would have died if I didn't. He- he wasn't allowed to eat, or sleep, or do anything when I got there and we- I don't know, we went a week without any food or sleep. We both kind of lost our minds, okay?"

Calum pauses. He can't understand what Luke had gone through, and he's not sure sure he ever will. From the videos he'd seen, he doesn't doubt that they'd both lost their minds. No wonder they were mutants. Calum frowns and ducks his head down to run his fingers through his hair quickly. Not that he's avoiding looking at Luke. When he glances back up, he catches Michael looking vaguely sad and is so thrown off that he almost misses what Luke's saying.

"He's fine," Luke says bluntly. "He got hit earlier, but he's fine. When I was dropped off at the apartment, I felt a really bad pain and Ashton panicking, but I think he's fine, now. He got the accelerated healing. He might have turned back into a baby."

Calum furrows his eyebrows and snaps his eyes over to Luke in confusion. "What? A baby? I thought he was a bee?"

"He turns into whatever the people around him need," Luke explains. "He's been a dog, a bear, a baby, I don't know, I really knocked out for, like, thirty hours in the past two days. By the way, Michael, I want to make it very clear that if I ever tell you I want a baby, I have been replaced by a clone and you should shoot me directly in the eye."

"What if Ashton's the clone?" Michael replies immediately. 

Luke opens his mouth, but clearly the question has stumped him as he shuts it again and rubs the unbruised side of his jaw like he's thinking deeply. After a few seconds, he looks back and says, "I'll get back to you, but I think Ashton always has the same color hair when he shifts."

"Hmm, interesting," Michael also seems to be thinking deeply about this topic. Calum watches the two of them, caught deep in their own thoughts, for a quick moment before he starts thinking about things himself. Ashton's completely fine. Luke doesn't seem worried in the slightest. He doesn't know why, but the thought worries him. What do the kidnappers need from him that they won't hurt him? 

After a solid thirty seconds, Luke snaps his fingers and announces, "Oh! I know where Ashton is, by the way." He glances between Michael and Calum, who both stare at him in stunned silence, then shrugs. "What?"

Michael does them both a favor and smacks him in the back of the head. "That's something you lead with, stupid."

"I'm sorry, I was in six hours of surgery to make sure I didn't die," Luke replies with a snarky tone in his voice. Michael scoffs, but Calum isn't in the mood to hear them banter. 

"Where?" He demands. "Where is he? We have to go get him!"

Michael eyes him curiously for a solid ten seconds, then holds a hand out towards him, and mumbles, "Spidey," in a low warning tone. It's the same tone that he'd used when they were in the Australian reality and Calum has tried to stay there, clinging to any form of Ashton he could find. He briefly wonders if he would have been happier there. 

Michael is clearly trying to remind him of that exact moment, as he raises one eyebrow and tilts his head patiently until Calum looks down at his burned hands. He examines them briefly before looking up again. "I'm fine. I can- I'll just use my webs? Those don't touch my hands."

"Hang from the ceiling," Michael says. He stands up a little straighter so he's not leaning against the hospital bed, and crosses his arms over his chest. Calum stares at him, so Michael shrugs and gestures towards the ceiling expectantly.

Calum glances down at his hands again, then up at the ceiling. It'll probably hold his weight, it looks sturdy enough. Calum aims his hand up, and folds his fingers back, but pain shoots through his palm and up his arm, making his heart beat faster. The web shoots out anyway and sticks to the ceiling as he cringes and hopes it doesn't look too obvious. He glances at Michael again.

"Go ahead," Michael nods towards the web connecting Calum's wrist to the ceiling. 

Calum frowns again as he reaches out with shaking hands towards the web. He hovers around it for a moment before folding his fingers around the thin strings and gripping tightly. The pain is instantaneous and searing in his palm, so he cries out, but doesn't let go. He tries to climb, but his burns are leaking a clear liquid again, so his hands slip and he falls forward in his chair, folding practically in half, then stays there. 

He can't even grab his own webs because he was stupid and tried to teach Michael a stupid lesson. Which he probably didn't even need to learn. Calum frowns as he holds his hands out in front of him limply, web still connected to his wrist. Fingers are buried in his hair and his head is pushed up, making him scowl and glare at Michael in front of him. 

"You just couldn't let me kill myself," Michael mutters. Like he's mad about it. Luke perks up curiously in the hospital bed and glances between the two of them while Michael pulls one of his dollar tree knives from the pocket of his hoodie. He grabs Calum's wrist and cuts the webbing off, huffing when it gets stuck to his fingers several times, until he finally snaps his hand away and lets the web hang lose and lonely in the room. 

"I'd miss you," Calum mumbles. Michael gives him a smug look as he pockets his knife again. "Don't let it go to your head. You were just the only one like me. I've got Luke back now, so you can fuck off."

"Oh?" Michael raises one eyebrow and reaches towards his chest slowly. He inches closer and closer and Calum knows damn well he's being tested, but he'd just slapped new bandages over the slowly closing bullet hole, and he really did like Michael to some extent. 

Michael manages to get one finger on the tape keeping the gauze down before Calum says, "Alright, fine! I like you, asshole!"

He scowls, but doesn't get any further than that before Luke says, "You guys for sure fucked while I was kidnapped."

"Yes, obviously," Michael replies immediately. Luke nods like it hasn't even phased him.

"No!" Calum says quickly, before the thought can get too far into Luke's head. "No, absolutely not! Why would you think that?" 

Luke gestures between the two of them pointedly, like that should explain the comment. Calum stares at him, so he shrugs, "I don't know, you're standing within a five foot radius of each other. You're talking. You- did you take him to another reality?" He points an accusing finger at Michael, who holds his hands up innocently.

"No fucking shit, yeah," Michael replies. Luke glares at him, so he shrugs. "I wasn't about to go look for you if I could get the me in a different reality to do it. Which, by the way, went extremely well."

"Yeah, got me about murdered," Luke nods and gestures at himself in the hospital bed, then to the IVs hanging next to him. "But don't you worry, as long as you didn't do the work." 

Calum looks between the two of them and decides maybe, possibly, they could use some space. To think things over and sort things out. He shakes out his shoulders and stands slowly, being careful of his hands. Flipping his hair back, he nods towards the door and says, "I'm going to go look for some- I don't know, whatever normal people put on injuries. Bengay?"

"Please put bengay on your burns," Luke replies. Calum decides he should not do that and maybe seek out a nurses help. They are in a hospital, after all. He shuts the door behind him with his pinky finger and roams the halls silently for a while. He can't help but be jealous of Michael and Luke in the hospital room, regardless of what their injury status and situation is. They get to be in the same room together. 

Eventually, he tracks down a nurse and asks for some burn medication or bandaids. The burns must be bad, because she gives him a horrified look and brings him down to the emergency section of the hospital, where he is properly wrapped in gauze and medication until he's got two big lobster claws. 

On his way back up, he finds a pudding cup in the cafeteria and requests that it be charged to Luke's room.

When he returns, it's about twenty minutes later and Michael and Luke are clearly on better terms, as Michael is running a hand through his hair, perched on the side of the bed, with the hoodie pulled off of his head and Luke's hand gently running across the bumps on the back of Michael's arm. Calum enters the room silently with his chocolate pudding. Luke's eyes visibly light up when he sees the package, but Calum simply returns to his chair and peels the lid back. 

"What are you-" Luke gets out, before Calum holds up a finger and shoves the spoon into the pudding. He doesn't particularly like pudding, but he eats the entire fucking packet slowly, with his gauze lobster claws, while Luke stares at him with his mouth hanging open in bewilderment. 

When he's finished, Calum reaches over and drops the pudding packet into the garbage while making direct eye contact with Luke. It makes a thumping noise when it lands and Calum says, "Fuck you. We're going to find Ashton, and we're going to do it my fucking way."

The room is dead silent for almost a minute before Michael decides to open his mouth. "That was the strangest power move I've ever seen. I feel like, for that to work as a real mic drop ending bit, we would have had to establish that either of us didn't feel like finding Ashton in the first place."

"Untrue,"  Luke nods in agreement. "I am, in fact, the biggest advocate for finding Ashton. That was a strange display of what I feel should have been dominance, but I'm actually a little hurt. My feelings are a little hurt by this." 

"Yes, I agree," Michael adds quickly. "I feel like he just did that to hurt you. Was- did you ever say anything about not wanting to find Ashton? Or- god fucking forbid here- not wanting to find Ashton in whatever way Calum wants?"

"Me?" Luke points to himself while raising his eyebrows at Michael, who nods back at him. "No, of course not. I really just assumed we'd go straight for the hospital room to following Calum to where Ashton is. This is his thing now."

Michael hums and nods as he turns back to Calum and rubs his chin. "You've heard our thoughts on your bold power move, any thought? Comments? Do you want to go get Luke a pudding?"

Calum blinks at him, then at Luke, who is looking back with an expectant but patient look on his face. Calum scowls. "No, I was doing a- I was making a big show of it. And Luke can't have any fucking pudding yet."

"We did see the display," Michael confirms. "Didn't get the context. Here, we can set you up. Calum, we are not going to find Ashton, and we are definitely not doing it your way."

"Wait," Calum turns to lean over the arm rest. He digs a lobster claw into the garbage and pulls out the single item in it. When he has the pudding cup and spoon back in his hand, he nods at Michael. "Okay, go ahead, I think I'm ready now."

Michael clears his throat and straightens up, so Luke pats his wrist encouragingly. "Calum, we are not going to find Ashton, and we are definitely not doing it your way."

Calum drops the pudding cup back into the garbage again. "Fuck you," he says forcefully. "We're going to find Ashton, and we're going to do it my way."


	21. My Thoughts Are Incomplete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from adderall by Max frost

Luke is sat on the floor of the gym, one leg stretched out in front of him with the other tucked in. He reaches forward, wiggling his fingers, trying as hard as he can to reach his toes. The muscles in his thigh are still tight and there's an ache low in his stomach that burns through the majority of his chest. With a huff, he leans back again and rests on one hand behind him, holding the other in his lap. The cast on his wrist is pink and only has a very intricate doodle of Spider-Man and a realistic looking dick on it. 

Luke glances up at Calum, who seems to be peeling the dead skin from around his burns. Luke makes a disgusted noise, so he drops his hands and looks over innocently. 

"You're supposed to be helping me," Luke accuses. "That's gross!"

"I'm the gross one?" Calum gestures to a nearby garbage can that Luke had thrown up in twenty minutes earlier. 

Luke waves his stiff, pink covered hand at him. "I had a lacerated stomach. I can't imagine I'm not going to vomit everywhere constantly. I am very injured."

"You did two push ups and then threw up," Calum reminds him. Luke waves him off again and looks back down at his feet. It's been three days since his surgery and they've determined that he has some form of advanced healing, it's just slower than anyone else's. He and Calum seem to be healing at the same rate, despite that Calum had grabbed a poisoned bullet and Luke had been smacked around with a big stick. 

Regardless of the weapon, Calum's burns are nearly healed, enough so that he can hold things again and he doesn't have to have lobster claws for hands. Luke can walk and work out, but only to an extent as his lungs are still stitching back together and his ribs are slowly cracking back into place. Luke's tried taking up yoga but he's one move in and it's just not going well. 

"Maybe I should see a masseuse," he suggests, glances back up at Calum. "My muscles are really tight and other smart words about anatomy."

"I don't- do you go to a massage artist for that?" Calum asks.

Luke doesn't like a single thing about that statement so he immediately tells Calum as much. "Why the fuck would you call a masseuse a massage artist? That's absolutely not the term, no, I hate that."

"I feel like that's the term," Calum places his hands on his hips like he's really considering it, then shrugs. "Does it matter?"

"Yes!" Luke replies immediately, without even thinking about it. "God, yes! Listen, I'm so glad I didn't get kidnapped with you, you really do say the stupidest shit, but at least I can get away from you. I'm stuck with Ashton for the rest of my fucking life." 

Calum gives him a short glare, so Luke snaps his mouth shut. 

"He's fine, okay?" Luke continues in a much softer tone as Calum starts picking at the dead skin on his hands again. "I don't- I can't explain it, but I can feel him and he's fine. He's upset about something and I don't know what, but he's fine. He misses us."

Calum doesn't look up again, just shakes his head. Luke sighs heavily and goes back to stretching out and trying to touch his toes. The muscles in his thigh pull tight and pinch at his nerves, but he goes lower and lower each time he presses forward, until he can touch the pads of his fingers to his ankle. He breathes out gently and sits back up to relax for a moment before starting on the next leg. 

Calum slowly sits down next to him and watches for a while, but he eventually loses patience and says, "Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure," Luke grunts as he lunges forward and taps his left shin with his arm cast. 

Calum chews on his lip for a moment. "How do you know when Michael's in another reality? Like, when his body is here, but his consciousness is... somewhere else?" 

"He tries to tell me before he goes," Luke hums as he presses forward again. The ache in his ribs throbs up his side. "But, if he doesn't, I can't really tell. I think, when his body goes on autopilot, he's nicer. He's a little less snappy. He likes to cuddle more. Why?"

Calum frowns but doesn't quite meet his eyes. "I think he'd gone into a different reality while you were in surgery but I don't know why. I saw him cry." 

Luke glances up from his toes in surprise. "He went to a different reality in front of you?" 

He knows Michael doesn't like to leave his body on auto pilot in front of anyone. He thinks he's weaker that way or something. Which Luke will agree, if there's anyone that won't stab a guy, it's Michael's body on auto pilot. Michael, however, will slice anyones head off. He's just surprised that he'd let Calum see him like that, unless...

"Was it possible he was just," Luke pauses and leans back to tilt his head at Calum. "Crying?" 

Calum looks surprised this time. "No? I- I don't know, I don't think so? It was only one tear."

"Oh man," Luke smirks at him. "He was just crying. He sobs when he's somewhere else, you got cried in front of. He likes you!"

"No!" Calum yells. "Stop it!"

Luke grins at him in response before trying to touch his toes again. Calum scowls while he stretches, brooding silently as he considers the new information. Honestly, Luke is thrilled. Carrying the burden that is Michael and Michael's reality flopping by himself is absolutely exhausting, but now that Michael's willing to show one emotion to someone else, he's thrilled. 

Besides, it warms his heart a little that Michael had cried over him. 

He glances up at Calum and smirks again. "Was it more than once? Are you sure it was only one tear? Did he address it?"

"Yeah, Luke, he said he didn't want you to die," Calum spits out. Luke grins and happily leans forward to touch his toes. "Don't smile at that, we both thought you were going to kick it! The surgeons cut you open and you didn't like it, so you burst into flames for an hour and no one knew what to do, you just kept bleeding and burning!" 

"Ah," Luke waves him off with his unbroken wrist. "Look at me, I'm fine. Tell me more. I'm a slut for talking about emotions."

"Me too, just not-" Calum cringes and mutters out. "Deadpool's. He's too cool to cry, what'll I tell the press?" 

Luke rolls his eyes and pokes his ankle in delight for half a second. He leans back again and breathes heavily. "Fine, What are your emotions? Specifically towards me. Like, gear your emotional responses towards me." 

Calum sighs heavily as he looks down at his hands blankly. They're shiny in spots, smooth in an unnatural way. He's silent for a few seconds before he shakes his head. "You know, Ashton and I talked- spoke about what we would do if the other died. He said I'd immediately go to you and Michael, specifically you, if anything ever happened to him and- fuck if I didn't do just that. I- I don't know, I- I trust you to help me find him, Luke."

Luke stares at him blankly. He didn't expect to get so sad from an emotional response. Really, he doesn't know Calum. They'd met briefly a period of times, maybe in passing at a bar once before he'd had to duck out with the hair on his arms sticking straight up. Another time at a coffee shop while he and Ashton had been having a scientific talk, while Calum had to drop something off for their studies. But, other than a few waves and small chats, they don't know each other. He's a friend of a friend. 

Still, Luke hadn't questioned it or paused in the slightest when the window had shattered with the force of Calum's urgency the night their worlds went to shit. Calum had need his help, and he wasn't going to deny him a thing. Ashton knew this. 

Luke glances up and smirks at him. "You like me."

"What?" Calum furrows his eyebrows and glances up from his hands with a confused look on his face. "I'd- I guess I would consider you a friend."

"That's that good shit," Luke grunts. "Yes bitch, tell me you like me, I love emotions."

"I," Calum pauses again and frowns at him. "I like you? You're my friend?" 

Luke goes to open his mouth, but doesn't get very far as the mood shifts in the room and everything is dead silence. Several things happen all at once. 

The first is that Calum visibly shivers and looks down as goosebumps rise along his skin. He glances at it momentarily before he gets the same, determined but cautious look on his face that Luke will always associate with Spider-Man. His eyes flick up. 

The second thing that happens is only a moment behind the first. The door creeks open and Luke catches sight of a black hoodie pulled around uneven, pink skin. He feels safe in the presence of Michael, so he has no idea what Calum's fucking problem is. Michael seems to sense something is wrong as soon as he steps one single foot in the door, as his eyes immediately go to Calum. Calum, who's already looking at Luke. Michael slowly follows his line of vision and makes eye contact with Luke as he mumbles his name almost nervously. 

The third thing that happens is the most intense. One second, Luke is tilting his head at Michael in an attempt to figure out why the air has been sucked from the room, and the next he's falling and falling through nothing but dark, pitch black nothingness. He hears himself grunt as he lands on his feet, back on the warehouse of his fucking nightmares. 

He spins around wildly, trying to figure out how and why the fuck he's here again. His body is still sore and aching as he stands in the dead center of the near empty warehouse and looks around in a panic. All the doors are shut. Ashton is kneeling in the center of the room, hands on his knees, eyes shut with a single tear streaming down his face. He looks thin and empty again and Luke finds himself wondering why, it's only been a few days, why are they starving him again? 

The guard that had snapped Luke's finger in half is standing in front of him with his hands slowly reaching towards the gun holstered at his belt. Luke starts running towards them, but he's going two slow. The handgun is drawn and pointed at Ashton's forehead. 

"No!" Luke screams. "Stop!"

Ashton does not share the sentiment. His eyes open as he looks towards the guard, completely avoiding a single glance at the gun. Luke expects him to jerk back or turn into a snake or something, but he doesn't. He leans forward and closes his eyes again as the barrel of the gun rests gently against his forehead with a soft click. He breathes out once, twice, before Luke makes it to them and lunges. 

His intent is to tackle Ashton or smack the gun away at the very least, but neither of those two things happen. He launches his body towards the two of them and lands sprawled out on the floor on the other side of them. Like he's gone straight through them. Maybe he had. Luke screams again as the gun is cocked. He tries to grab Ashton's arm, but watches in horror as his fingers swipe straight through his skin. 

Luke thrashes out wildly in an attempt to stop whatever the fuck is happening here, but he can't touch either of them and nothing is working. He can't stop this. Ashton leans fully into the gun. Luke squeezes his eyes shut and screams once more like that will help the situation. Like they'll hear him. He's suddenly aware of two hands warm against his shoulder, holding him down, another rests against his stomach lightly, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, while a fourth is resting against his hip. Someone is holding him down. Two people. 

He puts all of his heart into the thought that it's Ashton. He's invested in the idea. Ashton is holding him down because he's making a scene. Ashton's hands are warm on his body. When he opens his eyes, Ashton's face is neither of the two staring back at him with worry settled deep into their eyes. Ashton isn't here.

Luke instantly bursts into tears as he cries hysterically and thrashes his body again, lashing out in an attempt to get the hands off of him. Unfortunately, they only grip tighter and tighter until Luke is being pressed into the floor and heaving with the weight of the sobs racking his body.

"They're going to kill him!" He cries. "They're going to fucking kill him!" 

Calum, to his credit, seems to know exactly what he's saying by the somber look that falls over his face, but he doesn't move. He continues to push Luke into the disgusting and somehow sticky gym floor until Luke stops thrashing violently and just slumps. His sniffs and hiccups while his body shakes like he's freezing. When they're both sure that Luke's done having a fit, they slowly release him and let him relax. Luke wipes his wrist under his nose while Michael reaches up to gently thumb a few tears off his cheeks. He looks terribly upset when Luke looks at him and fuck if that doesn't hurt. 

Luke sits up and leans into him instantly, tucking himself small and careful underneath Michael's chin and against his chest until he feels infinitely safer. He continues shaking, while Michael runs a hand along his back slowly and soothingly. 

Calum lets them be for a few minutes while he inspects his hands again, but eventually the nerves get to him. He flicks his eyes up nervously. "Luke? What was that?"

"I don't know," Luke rushes out. "I don't- I don't know. I was just- I don't know, I was in the warehouse, again. And they were starving him and he was asking to be killed and I couldn't stop it, they were going to kill him. They're going to." 

Michael's hand stills where it's running along his spine and Luke knows damn well he understands what will happen if Ashton dies. He shakes his head and pulls Luke tighter to his chest. "We can let that happen? We have to get to him, what do you feel? How is he feeling now?" 

"What?" Calum replies with a confused look on his face. "I mean, I'm terrified too, but why are you? What are you thinking?" 

"I'll die," Luke says softly. "If they kill him, I'll die. I'm part of him and he's part of me, there's- I can't explain it. I don't know what to say."

"Ah," Michael clicks his fingers and points at Calum. "You know that gay shit I said about being connected to your soul? The universe didn't do that for them, so they did it manually."

Calum's eyebrows furrow as he connects the dots in his big head finally. He shakes his head and gestures towards himself and Michael. "I won't die if you die. Right? Please say I won't." 

"I'm actually not sure, care to try it out?" He asks.

Calum shakes his head quickly, while Luke frowns. "You said gay shit to him while I was missing? Someone kidnapped me and you moved out and said gay shit to someone else?" 

"It was to honor your spirit," Michael replies innocently.

Luke scowls. "Next time I get kidnapped you keep your big gay mouth shut."

"Next time you get kidnapped, just light yourself on fire," Michael bargains. Which, alright, that's a fair point. Luke can just light himself on fire and get out of any situation. Christmas dinner is going to be very exciting this year. 

"Am I the only one that didn't get a connection to someone?" Calum interrupts. "Like, i know I technically have Michael but I don't give a shit about him. I'm not connected to him, he latched onto me. That's not fair, what do I get?"

"Hopefully Ashton," Luke mutters. He swipes the back of his wrist under his eyes and then his nose for good measure, then looks up at Michael carefully. "We should go talk to your mom." 

Michael frowns instantly and shakes his head. "You don't want that." Calum glances between the two of them in confusion. 

"I don't," Luke confirms. He can feel the heavy weight in his stomach that confirms what he already knows. Ashton is sad. He's losing all hope. Whatever Luke had seen, it was definitely in the future, but it wasn't that far off. He shakes his head and doesn't dare say any of this in fear of somehow making something worse. "We have to get to Ashton and I can barely walk. We have to go see your mom."

Michael sighs heavily and furrows his eyebrows, apparently debating if he should fight this or just give in. He seemingly decides on the latter as he slides a hand down his face and mutters. "Fine."

Calum looks between the two of them again. "Please tell me your mom is a cop."

"I wish," Michael smirks.


	22. Should’ve Taken My Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from take my advice by wild party

In all honesty, Michael doesn't think his mother is that bad. Except for the time she dropped him off at the mall when he was eight and then accidentally got arrested so he had to sleep in a premade bed at Sears overnight until someone found him. Besides that and a few other minor mishaps, she's not a bad mother. She's not great, and Michael would probably just flat out kill himself if he had to see her more than twice a year, but she's not bad. 

When they pull up to the family business, she's already on the porch, leaning against one of the columns with a hand on her hip, like she'd expected them. Calum, who's sitting in the backseat, leans forward onto the center consul and tilts his head curiously while Michael angrily mutters under his breath and gathers up his phone and any loose weapons he has laying around. It's a surprising amount. 

Victoria is donning a wonderfully... black dress, almost knee length, with no shoes or socks, and several amulets around her neck. Calum eyes her up and slowly says, "huh. She's- she looks- uh, nice?"

"Sure," Michael reaches over and rips open the glove compartment in front of Luke. 

Calum is silent for a few moments before he whispers, "Is she..."

Michael sighs heavily as he pulls out a handgun and shoves it into his hoodie pocket. He glances up and spots his mother staring at Calum in absolute delight.

"Yes, my mother is a mutant. She's thinks she’s a witch," Michael looks back down and slams the glove (gun) compartment shut again. He bats at Calum's elbows until he can get into the center consul and pull out a second handgun, which he hands off to Luke. Luke looks at it in surprise and instantly grabs the wrong end of it, so Michael takes it back. He shuts the center consul and glances at Calum again. 

"I have several questions," Calum replies immediately. Michael shakes his head, but doesn't actually verbally say no, so Calum takes that as a yes and starts talking as fast as he can. Like he's trying to fit as much in as he can before anyone stops him. "Are you a witch? Have you always been a mutant? What kind of powers does she have? What are we doing here? How can she help us, but you can't?" 

"Oh my fucking god," Michael mutters as he pulls a hand down his face. He looks at Calum again and yells, "Can't you just roll with things? Always with the fucking third degree!" 

"You brought me here," Calum reminds him. He crosses his arms and sits back in his seat with a huff. 

Luke turns around to look at him scowling in the backseat. "Yes he's always been a mutant, but he's not a full one. Only half. So he can only do some of the “witch” things. She can heal people, which is why we’re here, but she also has telekinesis and some shapeshifting capabilities. Just don’t touch her."

Michael glares at the empty front porch in front of them with a passion. He is fully expecting the knock at Calum's window. Calum, however, is not. Calum and Luke both scream, at top volume, when they see Victoria's smiling face in the window, while Michael merely sighs. 

"Oh my god, okay," Luke whispers. Michael glances at him, trying to convey the most angsty teenager glare he can muster, trying to remind Luke that this is completely his fault. Luke has a hand over his chest and lifts the other to wave slowly at Victoria. 

Michael sighs as he opens the door and swings out. He plants his feet in the gravel of the driveway and turns to give his mother a leveled, bored expression, before he nods towards the car. "Luke is hurt." 

"You need..." She trails off and gives him a sly smile. Michael keeps his mouth shut. "Say it with me here, sweetheart. "Mom, I need your...."" 

Michael scowls. 

"Just say it!" Luke yells from the passenger seat. "Help! We need your help! Michael, spit it out!" 

"Help!" Michael sighs heavily. "We need your help, I can't do anything, we need help." 

Victoria smiles in absolute delight and claps her hands. Her rings clatter together. Michael glances down and finds Calum's face pressed against the glass as he stares up at them with his mouth dropped open. Like he's not sure how to react. Michael smacks the window of the car door and he jerks back in surprise, blinking quickly and shaking the expression off his face. 

Michael shoos his mother away and pulls open the car door. "Get out of the fucking car," he says. "Look, even Luke is trying to get out."

They all glance over to the other side of the car, where Luke is very obviously trying and failing to stand on the gravel. He sticks his head up and yells. "Hi Victoria! I got kidnapped!" He quickly drops back into his seat and huffs.

"Oh, good for you!" Victoria replies. 

Calum stares at him for a moment before slowly getting out of the car. Michael slams the door shut behind him and gestures to his mother. "Calum, Victoria. Victoria, you know Calum."

"Charmed," she holds her hand out towards him. Calum immediately goes to shake it or touch it at the very least, so Michael smacks the back of his hand, then grabs his wrist and shoves it back to his side. 

"She will not hesitate to turn you into a toad," he warns. "Do not touch her."

"A toad?" Victoria looks shocked by the accusation as she places her fingers against her chest. Like what she's hearing is absolute blasphemy. "Michael, must you think so little of me? He's too pretty to be a toad, he'd have been a frog at the very least."

"Good fucking god," Michael mutters for what feels like the millionth time that day. "Okay, I'm going to be a fucking adult here and go help Luke out of the car. Calum, can you get the katanas from the trunk. And don't- don't fucking touch her. If you're a frog, I can't turn you back into a human and she just flat out won't."

"But I-" Calum starts, before he realizes this probably isn't worth an argument and just goes to the trunk immediately. Michael stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and an annoyed expression on his face before his mother holds up her hands innocently and returns to the porch. He watches her go all the way inside and makes sure the screen door latches shut behind her before going over to help Luke. 

"This is completely your fault," he says instantly. Luke is sitting at the edge of his seat, feet hanging out of the car, and rubbing at his right thigh. He glances up and smiles weakly, so Michael sighs. "You're such a fucking baby, Luke."

"I am injured!" Luke yells. 

"Alright, come on," Michael bends down and presses a kiss to the top of his (extremely greasy) hair before man handling him around. When he stands up again, Luke is clinging to his back with his broken arm draped across his chest. His other shoulder had been dislocated, so he keeps that one curled into his own side. In all honesty, Michael is doing the majority of the work as he's holding Luke's thighs and making sure he doesn't fall off and somehow get impaled on a wood chip, or something. That seems his luck as of late. 

Calum meets them at the porch, moping along and dragging the katanas behind him as loudly as possible. They scrape along the gravel, but when he gets to the porch, one of them slides into the first step, almost slicing it completely in half. He gets the blade of the sword stuck in the wood of the stair and jerks to a stop, glancing back in surprise. 

"Jesus Christ, how sharp are these things?" He throws the left one onto the porch so that he can turn around and grab the right one with both hands and yank. 

"They've cut off millions of heads," Luke reminds him. "I've never seen him sharpen them? I think they're that sharp. Magically."

"Come on," Michael tightens his grip on Luke's leg for a moment before loosening up. "Shut up. Calum, do I have to do everything?" 

"My hands hurt!" Calum protests. He's tugging on the katana, but it seems stuck in place Michael walks over and smacks his hands away before grabbing the handle. It takes one tug and the blade comes free, so he hands it back to Luke. Luke uses his hand with the cast on it to snatch it up, then waves the sword in front of him while Michael moves up the porch. Calum huffs and follows behind them quickly. 

Michael stops short of the door and nods his head towards it, so Calum scowls and mopes in front of them. Luke continues swinging the sword around and Michael doesn't have the time to stop him, and somehow, someway, Calum doesn't fucking see it. Michael has the absolute pleasure of watching his katana, in the hands of an idiot, swing down as Calum reaches for the door and, before any of them realize, it slices Calum's hand clean off his body. 

The three of them are dead silent as they all stare down at Calum's arm, now gushing blood from a cleanly sliced stump. The hand falls to the ground with a thud. Calum screeches at the top of his lungs and bends his elbow, spraying blood fucking everywhere, so he can stare at his lack of hand. Luke drops the sword as fast as possible and starts screaming right back, lifting his hands like he's trying to fix the situation. 

"Good fucking god," Michael mutters. He bends down and snatched up the dead hand by the middle finger before standing up again. He holds it out with his nose scrunched as it gushes blood rapidly, but Calum's only screaming at it. He's clearly not about to grab it. Michael tries to hand (ha) it to Luke next, but he jerks back wildly at the meer sight of it coming close to him. He pushes and shoves until Michael lets go of his leg, and physically launches himself off of Michael's back. As soon as he lands on his ass, he bursts into flames. Michael can hear the fire crackling. 

"Oh my fucking god," Michael says as he turns around to face Luke, who's laying on his back on the all wood porch and staring at them in complete horror. Michael points in front of him with his free hand and keeps Calum's dead one in his other. "Luke! Get off the fucking porch!" 

Luke glances down as his hoodie starts to break into ashes and seems to abruptly realize that he's on fire. He jerks to his feet and starts sprinting. And continues sprinting once his feet hit the gravel. Michael watches him run into the woods, still on fire, and knows that's probably an issue he'll have to deal with later. But at least he's running and not struggling to stand. 

Which means his body has somehow healed in the span of three seconds and this trip was completely in vain. 

"Oh, god damn it," Michael mutters. Luke has disappeared completely, leaving only a scorched burn on the porch where he'd sat moments prior. Michael sighs as he turns around again and tries to hold Calum's severed hand out to him again. 

"Fuck!" Calum screeches. 

Michael shrugs and glances down at it. He's still holding it by the middle finger, but it seems to have run out of blood at this point. Calum has not, as his arm is still gushing blood. He's completely drenched in it at this point, and Michael has a feeling that he is, too. He can feel it dripping down his face. He shrugs again and gives Calum his calmest smile, "I've always wanted to hold your hand."

"I'm going to fucking die!" Calum screams back. 

"Alright, fine!" Michael grabs the handle to the front door and yanks it open. "Just trying to make small talk, sorry! You've always gotta cut me down, Calum."

"Luke cut off my hand!" Calum yells. Michael scoffs and steps into the entryway. Victoria is standing at the edge of the living room, right on the spot that the linoleum changes to hardwood. Michael knows the rules, so he ushers Calum into the house and points to a spot on the linoleum for him to stand. Linoleum is easier to clean. 

"Luke cut off his hand. And now he's on fire in the woods, but I'm sure he'll find a pond," he waves Calum's severed hand at his mother to blow the situation off, much to Calum's horror. "Don't worry about it. Anyway, can you help him?"

"Please," Calum begs. He's gushing blood all over the floor. "Please, I don't want to die, I don't think I'm ready! Ashton's still missing and- and I'm a child and I'm not ready to be dead!" 

Victoria hums and moves forward to grab the hand from Michael. "Who's Ashton?"

"He's the one that typically keeps Luke from cutting off Calum's hand," Michael replies. "He got kidnapped, we're trying to find him."

"Ah," Victoria replies. She holds the dead hand in her palm and flips it over a few times thoughtfully. "Are we keeping this?"

Calum looks completely horrified by the question. He manages to choke out an extremely strained, "Yes?" Victoria looks to her son skeptically. 

"Better," Michael shrugs. "This is the Spider-Man reality, I think he needs it. I'm going to go find some spare clothes."

"Wait, What?" Calum looks up at him like he's panicking. He glances at Victoria shortly before returning his panicked gaze to Michael. "You're going to leave me here? Alone? Wait, she's touching my hand! She's not supposed to touch me!" 

Michael rolls his eyes. "You'll be fine. She'd save you before she'd turn you into a frog. Just- try to stay calm, okay? I know this is your first severed body part, but I promise it won't be that bad. Quick and painless, okay? It's just a hand. Would I lie to you?"

Calum looks suspicious. Which is fair, because Michael would definitely lie to him. And he has, multiple times. He's trying to use his soothing, serious voice, however. Calum seems to pick up on it as he shakes his head slowly and allows Victoria to gently lower his arm. Michael watches carefully for a moment to ensure that Calum isn't about to just take off running towards the woods surrounding the house for no fucking reason. When he confirms he's calming down and allowing Victoria to inspect his bleeding forearm, michael spins on his heels and begins walking out of the room. 

He toes off his shoes before he gets to the hardwood, leaving bloody footprints as he goes, and heads towards the stairs. When he'd left this house, it was at half past two on a frozen cold morning in the middle of January, with Luke hot on his heels and carrying a handful of his mother's cash. Which has been since paid back. Either way, the majority of Michael's creature comforts remain in his teenage bedroom, locked away in the back room of the basement. 

When he steps in, he's immediately hit by the smell of axe body spray. He scoffs and coughs for a second as he ventures farther into the room. The walls are painted a gentle gray, but the floor is covered by a startling orange shag carpet. Michael's nose scrunches as his toes curl into it and his fingers find the light switch. When he turns it in, he finds his bed striped of sheets and the closet door wide open. His old desk is shoved against the wall and covered in various papers and Knick knacks, including some old homework and a few healing spells that he could never get right. 

Michael shakes his head at the dinghy room and bare mattress as he heads towards the dresser. The top drawer is pulled out about an inch, so he pushes it back in and opens the third drawer. It takes a few moments for him to change into a new pair of sweats that are just a little tight, along with a baggy sum 41 shirt. He pulls out an extra pair of sweatpants and a hoodie for Calum before closing the drawer again. He knows there's a figure looming in the doorway without turning around, his connection is still strong enough with the room, so he sighs and pulls out a pair of basketball shorts. 

"I'm out of sweatpants, your chicken legs will have to be out," he warns. He closes the third drawer and digs around in the second until he can pull out a my little pony shirt. When he turns around finally, he finds Luke leaning against the doorway, completely ass naked, striking the worst pose possible. 

"Do you," he pauses and gestures towards the room as a whole. "Come here often?"

"No," Michael admits. "The last time I was here was Christmas. You were also here. We fucked there." He points to the bed.

"That's true," Luke straightens himself out and makes a grabby hand towards the pile of clothes in Michael's arms. He nods his head towards the closet as he grabs the fabric. "And there. Anyway, I had to sneak in the kitchen window so no one saw my dick."

"They've probably all seen it," Michael reminds him, even as he tosses the shirt and shorts across the room. They land about three feet in front of him, so Luke huffs and stomps into the room completely, slamming the door shut behind him like he has any humility to save. Michael shrugs and turns to close the drawers of his old dresser again. "Did you burn yourself out or find a pond?"

"Found a pond," Luke admits. His hair is still dripping a little, so it makes sense. "It wasn't too far away. Also, I think my body is, like, completely healed now. All I had to do was get it a little hot."

"Oh, little toasty, huh?" Michae replies. "Just toss little marshmallow Luke into the bonfire and he's fine?" 

Luke glances at him when he turns around, but decides to shove the shirt all the way over his head and straighten it across his torso before he replies. "You seem upset about something. Is it- is it the My Moms a Mutant Thi-"

"It's the My Moms a Mutant Thing," Michael confirms. "Listen, I just wanted a nice, clean reality where Calum doesn't know my family, doesn't get his hands cut off by my boyfriend, and doesn't- I don't know, doesn't get depression."

"Okay, so me cutting off his hand is definitely not a one time thing," Luke says instantly. Like that's all he took from that. Michael gives him an irritated glare. "What? Yes or no, that's all I'm asking for. Have I done this before?"

"So many times," Michael sighs. "Good god Luke, you're such a fucking idiot. I've seen the insides of his wrists more times than I need to. You're so clumsy around him, I swear to god you kill him in a few realities, just by being a fucking idiot."

"Huh," Luke glances down at his my little pony shirt and starts picking lint off of it. He flicks it away from his face and glances back up at Michael. "Somber. Must make the other yous pretty upset, huh?" 

Michael tilts his head at him. "If I wasn't mistaken, I'd say you were jealous."

"Yeah," Luke shrugs. He glances around the room as he cross over to flop down on the bare mattress, knees hooked over the edge, as he holds himself up on his elbows. "I mean, who wouldn't be? You've always been destined to be with Calum. How'd I get thrown in the mix?"

Alright, to be fair, Michael can see where he's coming from. He's always questioned it, too. The one, constant thing he can always count on across all times, realities, and spaces, is Calum. It's always been Calum. They've been stuck together for so long, that Michael isn't completely sure what he would do if something happened to Calum. Maybe he would die. He's not sure. 

He frowns and turns to venture over to his old, abandoned desk again, trying to think up something on the spot. He roots through the loose papers and other various shit littering the table top and says, "Do you remember when we met?"

"Do you?" Luke snorts.

"I was 18," Michael replies instantly. "You were 18. We met at the city fair, right down the street. Van Halen was playing when I looked at you."

"It was not," Luke says immediately. "It was- it was not Van Halen. It had to be Areosmith."

Michael shakes his head quickly as he picks up a dead rose with flat, brown petals and a gray stem. "It was Van Halen when I looked at you. And I kept looking at you, so it was Aerosmith when we made eye contact. I knew who you were, I'd met you in so many realities before this one, but you- I don't know, I felt something with you in this one. You made me feel warm, but cold at the same time somehow. I had butterflies in my stomach because- because that was it, you know? I'd waited so long to see if this was going to be a reality where I had the pleasure of knowing you and-" 

He pauses and glances up at Luke, who is staring back with half a smile on his face as he stares at the rose that Michael is still holding. 

"-and there you were," Michael finishes. He holds up the rose. "I stole this from the guy that ran the pick a duck game because I felt like I had to give you something. Like I was one of the wise men and you were Jesus. The Ferris wheel broke down while we were at the top, so you gave it back while I sucked your dick. Do you remember?" 

"Of course I remember," Luke replies with a snort. "By the way, everyone knew what you were doing. You big slut." 

"Ah," Michael waves him away and sets the rose down to pick up a framed piece of white paper with glittering gold letters printed on it. He holds it up and points to the words as he reads them. "Cetificate of completion. Awarded to "my boyfriend" for "doin me"."

"Aw," Luke touches his fingers to his chest and rests his body weight on his opposite elbow. "I gave you that the first time I let you nut in me. Because you completed having sex with me. I didn't know you kept that." 

"I kept everything," Michael replies. "I should display this one, it was truly a proud moment for us. I have the wristbands from our first nickelback concert, too." 

"And they say romance is dead," Luke waves at his face and looks at the ceiling like he's tearing up. Michael smirks at him and sets the certificate down, again. 

He plays with his fingers silently, knowing damn well Luke is staring at him, and shrugs. "I'm in love with you. I chose you because- because the other realities are not the same as me. There is only one me that is exactly like this and only one you that is exactly like this, and these two people- me and you- in this reality, are meant to be. I'm in love with you."

"Oh, bitch," Luke mumbles. He's waving his face again and actually tearing up when Michael looks up at him. He smirks, so Luke lets out a half laugh, half sob. 

"Can I ask you a cheesy question without getting too gay?" Michael asks. Luke shrugs from across the room and continues fanning his face. "Do you- will you marry me?"

"Wait," Luke pauses and gestures between the two of them. "Are we-? We're not already engaged?"

Michael blinks in surprise. "Are we?" 

"I don't know, did you get a ring?" Luke asks. Michael glances down at his hands and shakes his head to confirm that he did not, in fact, receive a ring at any point. Luke looks down at his own hands. "Huh. Maybe we're not. Are we married?"

"I'm going to be honest," Michael whispers. Like there's someone else in the room to hear their conversation. "I don't know for sure. Like, I kind of assumed so, but I don't know that we are."

"Huh," Luke says again. "We can recall the night we met in great detail, but we don't know if we're legally married? Should we- should we get our priorities figured out?"

"No," Michael replies. "No, alright? We're married, congrats."

"Ah, mozel tov!" Luke says excitedly. "I'm excited for us! Look, we really did that, didn't we? We decided on something and now we're married!"

"Go team," Michael is quick to practically leap across the room to give him a high five. Luke grins in absolute delight, so Michael leans down and kisses his forehead gently. 

There's a soft knock on the door before anything can go any further, so Michael falls down onto the bed and leans back on his elbows. The doors swings open when he looks at it, leaving Calum standing in the doorway looking absolutely terrified. He has one arm raised, fist curled, like he'd been about to knock again, while the other is pulled tight against his chests. His hand is wrapped tight in bandages, creating another lobster claw, with various flowers peeking out from under the tight wrap. 

Michael spots lavender and wonders if magic has changed since he was a teenager, or if it's just for show. He figures the latter when Calum holds his fresh claw up and says, "Hurts."

"We got married!" Luke replies immediately. He visibly frowns and sets his hand down on Michael's wrist. "Maybe you should get me a ring so we don't forget again."

Michael shurugs and turns his attention back to Calum, who is still holding his hand out like he's not quite sure what to do with it. Calum looks at Luke and says, "Congrats," before holding his hand out closer to Michael. "Hurts." 

"Alright, let me see," Michael says. Like he's going to be able to do anything. "What did she give you? Anything?"

"I got to pick which flower I wanted in my cast," Calum says as he shuffles over to offer up his hand. Michael sits up and scrunches his nose at the crushed lavender stems sticking out between Calum's fingers. "I got purple."

"Wonderful," Michael mutters. He holds Calum's wrist in his hand and shakes it, but everything seems connected properly as nothing flies off and goes rolling across the floor. Calum flinches And rips his hand away to cradle it against his chest again. 

"Do you mind?" Calum frowns at him. "Luke very recently cut off my entire hand. The psychological wound will remain for the rest of my life, but the physical one still hurts a bit."

"You're a baby," Luke tells him. "I got the shit beat out of me and popped all my lungs. You lost- what?- one hand? For half an hour? I don't want to hear it." 

"You will," Calum holds his claw towards Luke and let's out a loud wail. "It hurts! Help me!"

"How?" Luke uses a single pointer finger to push the hand away from him. He glances at the bandages and then squints up at Calum. "Man, wouldn't it suck if she put it on backwards?" 

Calum wails again and Michael genuinely sees tears in his eyes. He elbows Luke and says, "Alright, leave him alone, it's his first cut off appendage. Calum, you'll be fine. It's on the right way, it looks fine, you'll heal in half an hour at the most, okay? Now shut up."

Calum huffs, But keeps his mouth shut obediently. 

Michael turns his attention to Luke and holds one hand out patiently. "Are you healed? You good?"

"I'm good," Luke slaps his hand. He looks over to Calum and explains, "I got hot and now I can walk."

"Good for you," Calum nods at him. "Like a marshmallow?"

Luke's voice raises about 30 pitches. "Do I look-?!"

"No," Michael cuts him off. Luke scowls. "Anyway, do you know where Ashton is?"

Luke huffs and taps his temple twice. "Up here. In the Ashton gps. The agps. The- the gaps, the-"

"I like gaps, stop while you're ahead," Calum says. Luke nods and mimes zipping his lips.

Michael glances betwen the two of them for a moment. Luke is completely fine now, and Calum's hand will be completely normal in next to no time. They're all finally healthy. He manages to catch Calum's eye and give him a smirk. 

"Then lets go find Ashton,"

Calum nods and mutters, "My way."


	23. Stop That Train!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from stop that train by awolnation
> 
> Sorry for the state of..... this

"Alright, here's the plan," Calum leans in close, holding out his hand like he's going to drop some incredibly detailed information on them. "Are you ready?"

"Am I-" Michael cuts off and gives him an exasperated look. "Obviously, Yes. Jesus Christ, I'm on the edge of my fucking seat here just give me the fucking tea."

"Hmm, wig," Luke says softly. 

Calum ignores them both and continues with his plan. Which will probably be incredibly stupid and unhelpful. Michael tunes him out and starts to think of his own ingenious plan. They're sitting in a van (not stolen, borrowed, thank you) directly outside of the warehouse Luke seems to think Ashton is in. The lights are on inside, and there is an atomically correct window, so Michael feels it's fair to assume he's right. Besides, as soon as they'd turned onto the street, Luke's hand had lit on fire. Unfortunately, he was driving, so they'd had to pull over and dump water on him. 

Michael is vaguely aware that Calum is still talking about something. There's two guards standing outside the door, eying their stolen (borrowed, Luke's just very good at picking locks and little else) van. There's a larger building next door with a few guards standing around it and at least fifty vehicles parked out front, so Michael figures it's fair to assume that there's more idiots with machine guns crammed inside of it. 

He clicks his fingers and points to the window he's looking out of, straight at the two guards standing in front of the warehouse door. "Got it. We send in Luke."

"What?" Luke looks up from his phone (he's looking at cats on Instagram). "Man, fuck you. Why me?"

"Why would you go back?" Michael shrugs. "It'll throw them off. They'll take you inside, you'll be fine."

"They tried to kill me!" Luke shrieks. He locks his phone and holds up his bare hand. "Do you want your husband killed?"

Calum inspects his bare fingers thoughtfully and tsks. "He didn't even get you a ring? What the fuck, you should divorce him."

"I should," Luke crosses his arms. 

"Anyway," Calum shakes his head and looks at Michael again. "Were you listening to me? That's the exact opposite of what I said. I think we should go with my plan-"

"It's stupid," Michael tells him bluntly. "I didn't really hear it because your voice is more or less, like, a vague buzzing to me at this point, but the buzzes I did understand were stupid. You didn't even hear my full plan, so let me finish."

Calum scoffs and buzzes or something, so Michael takes that as his cue to continue.

"We send in Luke, okay," Michael uses two fingers to mime walking along his opposite palm. "The guards see him, they- Alright, to be fair, you should probably be on fire for this, Luke. Get your dick out.- they see him, they beat the shit out of him, but he's fine, right? Because he's on fire, he'll be fine. Once he's a little bit bruised up, they take him inside and we just-"

Michael comes to a dead stop, so Calum stares at him. Luke sighs and unlocks his phone to pull up Instagram again. After a few seconds, Calum glances around like he's looking for a reason for the abrupt halt of the sentence, then holds out his hand in confusion when he finds none. "What? We just What?"

"I don't know," Michael says honestly. "I really didn't think you'd let me make it this far, that's as far as I'd thought."

"So your plan," Calum pauses to sigh heavily and rub his forehead like having a brain is an absolute burden. "Let me- okay, your entire plan was just to get Luke killed? That's- that's kind of the full stop, huh?"

"Well, no, he'll be fine," Michael waves a hand towards Luke in the drivers seat vaguely. "He'll light himself on fire, he'll heal, he'll be fine. Besides, they wouldn't kill him because if they do, Ashton will die, and they're not going to kill Ashton."

"Yes they are!" Calum exclaims. "The entire reason we're here right now is because they are! They don't care if he dies, they'll literally just kill Luke, Ashton will die, and they'll be fine! Your plan literally just kills Ashton, which defeats the purpose of being here in the first place to think of a plan!"

"And it kills Ashton," Luke points out.

"And it kills Ashton!" Calum repeats.

Luke glances up from his phone. "It also kills me."

Calum shushes him. "Can you just go back to your phone, we're talking."

Luke makes a protesting noise, so Calum shushes him again. He goes back to his phone with a scowl and scrolls angrily through his feed of cats, while Michael merely shrugs. "I'm worried about you, don't sweat."

"You-!" Luke decides it's not worth an argument and simply shifts in his seat so he's not facing the two of them in the back, anymore. He mutters to himself quietly, so Michael turns back to Calum to talk strategy.

"Alright, so I'll-" Calum starts pointing, but the buzzing is back, so Michael tunes it out. He glances towards the warehouse again. He wonders what's going on in there, if Ashton really is being starved and psychologically tortured again. When the buzzing stops, about 900 hours later, he still doesn't have any ideas. He frowns and huffs, because he has nothing to counter Calum's undoubtedly stupid points. 

The van is silent while Calum waits for the feedback he wont receive and Michael considers just walking outside and seeing if they'll kill him. After a few seconds, Luke locks his phone again. "Just go up to the roof, again."

"What?" Calum says.

"The roof," Luke turns his head to glance out the window, so Michael looks over to the warehouse for a visual. "They don't learn from mistakes. Just do what you did last time, but quietly and as fast as possible. Just grab him and go."

"That's no fun," Michael mutters.

Calum seems to be considering it as he nods and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "What do we do if someone walks in? We can't kill them."

"Ugh!" Michael groans like he's in physical pain. "This plan sucks!"

"Just do your," Luke waves at him vaguely and then holds up his wrist. "Your web shit, just do that. There's literally a hole in the roof and everything, you just have to go up."

"That's just not possible," Michael says. "Us? Go up? Absolutely not, how would we even get up there?"

"The seems too easy," Calum completely ignores him, which seems fair. "They kept the hole? They're not monitoring it?"

"I don't know, I only saw the inside," Luke shrugs as he fiddles with his phone and looks out the window again. "Just wait until it gets dark. We can sit in the back and talk about our feelings until the crowd here thins out a bit, and then we'll go up to the roof and snoop around."

"We?" Calum echoes. He looks at Michael almost nervously before shaking his head and looking anywhere but the front seat. "Maybe you should... stay here."

Luke turns around in his seat with his eyebrows furrowed. "What, why?" He protests. "I can take care of myself, I'm not sitting in the van! I want to go with!"

"I think I speak for both of us when I say this," Calum glances over, so Michael shrugs and assumes he does. "We don't want to offend you, it's just..." he pauses for a long period of time and nods his head towards Luke. Michael crosses his arms, because he's not even sure what they're talking about. He's not about to say anything. Calum huffs again. "We, as a team, don't see what you really contribute to the team?"

Michael raises his eyebrows in surprise at that. "Jesus Christ, I'm supposed to be the bad cop here."

Luke sauawks in protest, But is clearly rendered speechless as he opens and closes his mouth several times before he manages to squeak out, "I light on fire!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Calum says quickly, holding a hand out towards him like Luke's about to demonstrate and kill them all. "That's cool, don't get me wrong, But is it... functional?"

"It's functional!" Luke replies in the same high pitch. "I- I can burn anything with my whole body!"

"No, I said that's real cool!" Calum repeats. "Don't- don't get it twisted, because we do find you very useful in other situations. Lighting a cigarette? Call Luke, you know? You're so useful, dude! Just... maybe not here?"

Luke scoffs and points to himself in absolute disbelief. "I'm not useful?" Calum doesn't answer, so Luke forcefully gestures to Michael. "What about him? What the fuck does he contribute?"

Calum glances between the two of them nervously for a moment, before he leans towards Luke and lowers his voice to a whisper. "He's so, so mean, Luke. I can't- he's so mean, I can't insult anyone like he can. Plus, if we need to get answers, what am I going to do? Web them? No, he just starts chopping off fingers."

"Do you," michael pauses and picks up the knife that just so happens to be in the cup holder of his door, then casually points to himself with it. "Do you keep me around as a murder weapon?"

"What?" Calum asks in a high pitch voice. "Do I- no! Absolutely not! Would I do that to you?" He makes eye contact with Luke, and starts nodding in a very small, almost unnoticeable way. After a few seconds, he turns back to Michael and shakes his head. "Really, what kind of guy do you think I am?"

He looks back to Luke and nods again. 

"This has been a very eye opening conversation, but as the leader of this team, I have made my decision," Michael says. He turns to Luke, who is still watching Calum nod shortly with his head tilted to the side like he can't decipher the truth. "Luke. You are not America's Next Top Model."

"That's not fair!" Luke protests immediately, apparently deciding to completely ignore Calum's comments. "I worked hard to- hold on, did you just say you're the leader? I love you to death, but Calum is definitely the leader in your little gang.- I worked hard to be in this competition! Give me another chance, I can prove to you I am!"

"No, Luke, you blew it," Michael shakes his head. "You had your shot, and your photo just wasn't the best this week."

"I get the analogy," Calum says. Michael glances at him, so he nods quickly. "I do, I know things."

"Alright, hold on," Michael sighs heavily and changes course so that Calum can understand him. "Alright, Calum, you're not gay enough, I need you to work on that, okay? Luke, I'm sorry, but you are not the next American Idol."

"Well, now this is just double disappointing because of the two analogies," Luke huffs. 

"I get that!" Calum announces. "I- I watched that one! Ah, he didn't win."

"Yeah, and I deserved to!" Luke protests as he crosses his arms and scowls. "Do you know what I gave up to be here? I sold my house to get on this show!"

"It's just not in the cards," Michael says. "Try again next round, maybe we'll bite then."

"Fuck you," Luke replies. "I- hold on, I'm getting an incoming call from Ashton."

He holds his head in his hand and squeezes his eyes shut. Like he's concentrating extremely hard on something. His free hand reaches out towards the window that the warehouse is out of, like an antenna picking up signal, as he inflates his cheeks with air and steadily starts blowing it out. Calum leans in eagerly. 

Luke opens his eyes again. "Ashton said you have to let me be the next American Idol or else he'll kill you."

"I- no," Calum huffs and leans back in his seat, this time. "That's not how that works, that was a dirty tactic and you know it."

"He said it," Luke shrugs. Calum flips him off.

"Now hold on," Michael interjects. "This did bring up an interesting point, which is that he can speak to Ashton with his teeny rat brain. I think that might be an advantage for- for when we go to rescue Ashton. Who he can speak to with his mind."

"No, I think he lied," Calum says gently. Like he's letting Michael down. "I don't- I don't think he was actually talking to Ashton when he said that. He just wants to be in our group."

"Thank you," Michael deadpans. Calum nods eagerly. "I actually did understand that, but I appreciate you mansplaining it to me. Anyway, it's still a good point, he's got the gaps- the Ashton gps."

Calum makes a considering sort of hum and reaches up to rub his jaw with his recently removed and reapplied hand. Luke glances at him before gesturing to himself again.

"I'm useful?" He phrases it like a question.

"I think so," Michael confirms. "If you can- I don't know, what do you have to do? You gotta, like, make eye contact with the fucker?"

"Well I can feel him all the time," Luke jabs a finger into his stomach, so Michael's going to assume that Ashton presides there. "But to speak to him, I have to make eye contact, yeah."

"Huh," Calum seems to be considering this, as he slowly reaches forward with his pointer finger extended, all the way into the front seat, until he can jab it into Luke's stomach. Luke squirms and flails wildly to get him away. Calum pulls his hand back and continues to eye him curiously. "Can you send him emotions? Like, can you give him warm and happy feelings?"

"Hypothetically," Luke shrugs. "But he only feels what I'm feeling and I feel what he's feeling. For me to give him some warm and happy bullshit, I would have to be warm and happy, and I am the furthest fucking away from that because I just found out that the most useful part of me is that I know Ashton."

"That's sad," Calum agrees, but makes no move to comfort him or correct him in the slightest. Michael is suddenly worried he's going to be booted from his bad cop position. Calum turns back and says, "I know if I say I have a plan, you'll ignore me, so what's your plan?"

"Well, Calum, I'm flattered," Michael twirls his spare knife in his hand and hums carefully. "Haven't got one, but let me bullshit for a second. Can spiders see in the dark?"

"If you're asking if I can, the answer is no," Calum replies. He continues to make some vague buzzing noise, so Michael moves on.

"Lame, okay," he mumbles. "Let's- I don't know, let's wait until dusk? That's when kids are most likely to be hit by a car, Luke."

Luke glances up in surprise from the mention of his name. "Why was I tagged on that sentence? Do you think I'm a child? Do you want me to be hit by a car?"

"It'll be harder to see us, but we can still see a little bit," Michael continues. Luke huffs and clearly accepts that he will not be receiving an answer. "At dusk, we attack."

"No," Calum says quickly. "No, we- we can't do that, remember? We have to not kill anyone, so the alarm doesn't go off. We'll go up to the roof and I'll go back in through the hole and grab Ashton, you make sure no one tries to kill me. Luke, you can- you- just, I don't know, sit up there and make sure nothing goes wrong."

"You're making me the backup to the backup?" Luke asks. "Wow, thank you so much for giving me my big break. What an opportunity."

"At least you were invited," Michael offers. Luke seems to consider it, then eventually shrugs and goes back to his phone. Michael glances at the clock in the car. It's noon.

"Huh," he glances out the window and finds the sun is high in the damn sky. "Anyone else feeling Taco Bell?" 

Calum sighs as he pulls out his phone and turns to the window like he's visibly upset they have so much time in the day. "You know, I do have to run some errands."

Luke seems to understand where this conversation is going as he restarts the van and drops his phone into the passenger seat. "If we get pulled over, open your doors and start fucking running, because I am not going down with this stolen ship."

"It's borrowed!" Michael points the knife at him. "We'll put it back! Just- shut up, Luke, let's go."


	24. Put A Bullet Where I Shoulda Put A Helmet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from I wanna get better by bleachers

Luke sips his coffee through the green straw that was provided to him, and earns the angriest fucking glare imaginable in response. He holds his hands up and shakes the iced coffee in defense. "What?"

"Do you- I'm putting this as gently as I can- do you ever shut the fuck up?" Calum asks. 

"No," Luke takes another loud sip of his coffee and then makes an elongated "Ahh," noise. 

Calum huffs and turns back to his window in the passenger seat. There's nothing incredibly interesting going on outside, so Luke's not sure what he could possibly be looking at. He eyes the scenery for a moment before shrugging and turning back to his window where the real fun is. 

They're parked in the parking lot this time, instead of on the street, in a less conspicuous car with tinted windows. Luke has figured out he is very good at hot wiring cars. Their borrowed car is black, and has no visible license plates, because Michael had ripped them off and tossed them into the woods for an unknown reason, before stockpiling weapons into the trunk. 

Luke has a backpack full of his own armory in his lap, but it's mainly cans of hairspray he can hold his hands in front of, and a gun he's not entirely sure how to use. Before they'd left the armory Michael had "borrowed" the guns from, michael had pointed to several little parts of it and said a bunch of words, but Luke really only remembers watching Calum fire a rocket launcher. He'd been thrown back a few yards before the rocket exploded and burned down the entire building, but no one was inside so Luke wasn't too worried. 

Michael had muttered something along the lines of "Jesus fucking Christ, am I stuck with two absolute fucking idiots?" before he'd gingerly taken away the rocket launcher and tossed it into the trunk. 

Luke is extremely excited to pull it ot later and blow something up. Ideally, the warehouse. 

He glances at it out of the passenger window and feels a shiver run up his spine. Maybe that's what Calum's staring at so intently. Luke sighs and takes a sip of his empty coffee again. It's just melting ice, at this point. Calum jerks around and rips the cup out of his hands, then shoves it into the cup holder in his door.

"Fight, fight, fight," Michael chants quietly from the backseat. 

Luke huffs and crosses his arm. "Can I eat the ice?"

"Can you-" Calum cuts off and reroutes the entire sentence. "No! No, you're the loudest fucking chewer on the planet, absolutely not!"

"Dick," Luke mutters.

"We're on a stakeout!" Calum reminds him in the same, angry whisper-yell. "We're supposed to be quiet, but you don't know what tha word means, do you?"

"Hmm," Luke turns his nose up and looks out his window again. The two of them are dead silent, seething quietly, while Michael squirms around in the backseat. He seems to be trying to find a more comfortable sitting position in the backseat, one that doesn't require both of his feet on the ground, as he squirms around wildly and occasionally stills, sighs, and continues thrashing. 

It takes 25 minutes of dead silence before there's a soft thud from the passenger seat. Luke glances over to see Calum's pressing his pointer finger to the glass of the window, staring at the warehouse in shock. Luke follows his eyes and sees two guards dragging Ashton into the fucking night. He's not wearing a bag or a mask or anything. Luke's heart drops as he watches them lead Ashton across the parking lot entrance and into the tall building that they are parked behind. Luke feels nothing in the pit of his stomach. 

"God fucking-" Luke cuts off and puts a hand against his head. "They know he knows where he is. They don't care. They don't plan on him ever getting out. God, they're going to fucking kill him."

"Neat," Michael says from the back. Luke hears the unmistakable sound of one of his katanas being pulled from his back. "Let's just stab our way in before they stab him. Get it? Good, let's go."

"No, stop- stop it," the sword is shoved into the front seat, over the middle consul, so Luke moves it away from him with one finger. "This is still a stealth mission, we should still get him out safely. We don't want to set off any alarms, we don't even want anyone to know he's missing. If they find out we're there, it'll be a fucking bloodbath."

"Nice!" Michael shoves his stupid katana forward a little too forcefully and stabs it straight into the radio. The car is off, but Luke scowls anyway at the realization that he's not going to be able to listen to anything later. Michael rips the blade out and resheaths it. "Let's just pull a full Carrie on these motherfuckers. I wanna be covered in the shit."

"You're terrifying," Luke says honestly. "So heartless."

"I've met billions of people in my many lives," Michael shrugs. "They grow back."

It suddenly occurs to Luke that Calum is being surprisingly quiet about the subject. He glances over and finds Calum is still staring out the window. Luke pokes his shoulder, which seems to jerk him back to earth as he turns around to face Michael. He has his suit on, but not his mask quiet yet, whereas Michael is completely dressed and ready to fight. Luke's wearing jeans. 

"Can I borrow one of those?" Calum asks, pointing towards the two katanas. 

"I thought you'd never ask!" Michael rips one off his back again and hands it up, blade first. Calum makes a mildly inconvenienced grunt as he reaches way back and grabs the handle from Michael carefully. He pulls the sword up and sets the blade on the dash to inspect it. Meanwhile, Michael unzips the magic school bus fanny pack around his waist and pulls out one of the many knives packed inside of the thing. Luke watches as he reaches back and places the blade of the six inch knife into the slot where the four foot sword had been. 

"Okay," Calum breathes out. Luke tears his eyes away from the idiot in the backseat and looks over to find Calum touching the sword gently with two fingers. "Okay. We cut off their hands at the wrist. The watches that monitor their heart rates won't go off if we do it fast enough."

"Ah, now we're talkin'!" Michael rubs his hands together excitedly. "Calum, your trauma has made you stronger and I respect you for that."

"Are you kidding me?" Luke turns around. "You brought me back to the place where I was kidnapped and beaten almost to death multiple times, he had his hand cut off once!"

"If you wanted to kidnap and beat someone, I would support you," Michael replies. 

"Cut the radios out, too," Calum continues, completely ignoring them. "Smash their phones, tape their mouths shut, just make sure word doesn't get out. But don't kill them. We're good people."

"Yeah," Luke replies slowly. He's not sure where the fuck Calum's mind is, health wise, to think cutting off someone's hand and leaving them to bleed out is more humane than killing them quickly, but he's not going to question it. He knows a man on a mission when he sees one. 

Luke feels a dull pain and a little panic rise in his stomach. He pushes a hand into it and tries desperately to think of something soothing and calm, but his own anxieties flare up. When he glances up, he finds Calum's already staring at his grimace of pain with no emotion on his face. 

"We should go," Calum says. 

"Uh Huh," Luke agrees. He turns to look at Michael quickly. "Hey, can I bring the rocket launcher?" 

"Luke, Yes, obviously," Michael says immediately. "I've been waiting all my life for you to ask me this, of course you can bring the rocket launcher." 

"Nice," Luke opens his door quickly and jumps out of the car. There's less guards out now that it's nearing midnight. Only two men are posted directly outside of the building, but they can't see the car parked in the back of the lot too well. It they can, they don't seem to find it suspicious as no one is really paying them any mind.

Luke slings the backpack over his shoulders and pats around to make sure there's a can of hairspray in each side pocket for easy access. They'd found him fire retardant jeans, but not a shirt, so Luke hopes he doesn't have to do anything besides launch rockets. When they get the trunk open, Michael helps Calum stock up on knives and a gun, just in case, then shoves a handgun into Luke's waistband. 

"Do you want a sword?" He asks. 

The memory of slicing off Calum's hand and the sound his flesh hand made is still fresh.

Luke shakes his head. "I know I begged to be involved, but that's a little too involved. I can do the taping and the radio and/or phone smashing."

"Nice!" Michael gives him a crisp high five, followed by a hammer and two rolls of duct tape. Luke shoves both rolls onto his wrist and tucks the hammers into his hoodie pocket. The fabric sags considerably and pulls him down, but Luke is determined to prove how cool and strong he is, so he doesn't mention it. Michael hands off the rocket launcher, next. It's about the size of a machine gun, but different in shape. To allow for larger rockets, Luke assumes. It's got a strap on it, so Luke swings it over his shoulder and grins at Michael. 

"Oh, look at you!" Michael pinches his cheeks. "What a cute little backpack and rocket launcher!"

"Thank you, I'm a professional," Luke assures him. 

"Jesus Christ, you know Ashton is probably being murdered as we speak, right?" Calum asks. 

Luke shrugs and places one hand on the rocket launcher thoughtfully. Michael slams the trunk closed and they start walking towards the front door. The lot is large, big enough to house all of the employees for the tall building, so it takes a while to get up there. While they go, Michael twirls a few times and skips happily while spinning a knife in his hand.

Calum seems sullen, with the sword over his shoulder and an extra knife sticking out of his pocket. He's holding his mask in his hand, but he doesn't put it on quite yet. Instead, he looks down at it, then glances at Luke. 

"Do you ever feel like something bad is about to happen? Not to you, but," he trails off for a moment before shrugging. "Just something."

"Yeah," Luke says quietly as he feels a ball of nerves start to unravel in his stomach. Like Ashton is sobbing. He glances down, but quickly looks back up and gives Calum a smile. "Don't worry, Alright? I'm sure it's just anxiety. He's okay, we're going to get him."

Calum nods slowly and sets about putting on his mask. Luke releases a slow breath and nods his head towards the front door. "You should go ahead and destroy their radios before they see us. Don't want anything getting out."

"Right," Calum agrees. He holds out the katana, so Luke grabs it with the hand that isn't holding the rocket launcher back. He pauses to readjust his mask, then shoots a web straight up and disappears into the dark night. Luke glances up, but has no fucking clue where he could have gone. He keeps walking regardless, assuming Calum will get to the door first. He's only two rows of cars away from the path leading up to the front door before he hears a muffled shout and sees a dark figure rip a walkie talkie off of the belt of one of the men. 

Calum gets the others next and starts shooting webs wildly until he can get their hands webbed together. Luke sighs at the quick action and breaks into a soft jog while Calum waits patiently between the two guards. Is he the caddy? Luke thinks he's become the caddy for their weapons. He hands off the katana when he gets close enough, but looks away when Calum actually slices their hands off. He hears screams of pain and flinches back a little.

He has to remember. These are the men that beat him and tried to kill him. These are the men that had starved him for days and weeks to force him to contribute to their chemical warfare tactic. These men are the reason he is the way he is, and shoved into baggy flame retardant pants️. If they don't stop them, Ashton will die. 

Luke hears a seconds scream and feels a pang of sheer anguish and horror inside of him. He glances around wildly like Ashton will appear out of thin air, but only manages to find the two guards bleeding out, Calum and Michael, a singular street lamp, and a security camera overhead. Luke points to it. Calum glances behind him and spots the camera, then quickly shoots a web to cover it. 

"Come on," Calum bends down and rips the key card off the closest guards belt, then swipes it across the scanner by the door. "Luke, get their phones, tape their mouths shut, and grab the other card."

"Huh," Luke mumbles as he glances down. Calum slips into the building with Michael right behind him and the door clicks shut behind them. The two guards on the ground stare up at him. Luke sighs heavily and crouches down as he pulls one of the tape rolls off his wrist and starts picking at it. He laughs nervously and mutters, "You can never find the ends of these things, huh?" 

"Please don't do this," the man on the left whispers. "Please, we need to get to the hospital, please-"

Luke's fingers still, but he quickly infinite's picking until he finds the end of the tape and peels a piece off. "Do you know who I am?" He asks.

He doesn't dare look at their faces because he can hear sniffling and he knows how this feels. Not exactly this, but being on the verge of death from injuries.

"You kept me here for weeks," Luke says softly. "I almost died here. A couple times. The only reason I didn't- the only reason I'm alive is because you were stupid enough to keep Ashton, too. And he likes me." Luke keeps his eyes on the mans mouth as he gently places the tape over it, then pats his cheek and smiles. "Would sure be a shame if this fell off, huh?"

A corner of the tape is already peeling off. Luke tapes the other guards mouth shut, snatches up the key card, and digs around in their pockets until he finds their phones. He smashes one with his hammer, then walks over the other and feels the screen cracking under his foot. 

When Luke gets inside, he finds a long hallway that feels and smells all too familiar. He stumbles with the hammer still in his hand and places his free hand on his forehead. There's a third guard begging desperately on the floor next to him, but Luke can only stare at him as he watches tears stream down his face. He recognizes the man vaguely as someone that was in the room when his finger was broken. 

He's crying and whispering out a broken prayer, covered in his own blood and holding his severed hand tightly. Luke sways a little. He tapes the mans mouth shut while blinking wildly, then smashes his phone and radio like he's supposed to. The pain in his stomach has him on his knees, leaning over and grasping at his side. 

Luke follows the trail of bloody footprints down the hall and into an elevator. There's another guard inside, already webbed to the floor and unable to move. She seems to be holding up better than any of the men before her, Luke included. He takes her phone and radio while his vision swims and tries desperately to smash them, but he misses three times before simply shoving them into his pocket. He tapes her mouth shut and makes the mistake of looking into her eyes. 

They're green, but hard and angry, radiating a vibe that makes Luke fall back onto his ass and heave like the wind has been knocked out of his lungs. She glances up at the corner of the elevator, then looks at Luke again. He slowly turns and finds another security camera. And he starts sobbing. He doesn't know why he's crying, only that the tears are streaming and his body is shaking, and he can't even wipe his cheeks off because his hands are covered in blood. 

"He knows," Luke realizes out loud, through sobs. "He knows, doesn't he? He's watching us, he knows." 

The woman stares at him. Luke pulls her phone out of his pocket and rips the tape off of her mouth. He dials 911 and places the phone onto the webbing covering her entire torso and sticking her to the ground. 

"I can't get you out, I'm sorry, I-" he cuts off when he hears an answer on the phone. He stares at the woman, but she's blurry and he's still crying. She stares right back.

"We're going to need several ambulances sent to our building," she says in a cold voice. The elevator dings and Luke's brain spins wildly at the all too familiar sound. He's been here before. 

He remembers the sound of his lungs filling with blood and the crack of his ribs as the baton hit him over and over, remembers the throbbing pain echoing violently through his body and making his toes feel like they were being individually sawed off. He does not, however, remember pressing the button for the elevator. 

He turns slowly as the doors open and hopes to god it's Ashton, but he knows it won't be.

Michael stares at the woman in the corner, clearly on the phone with emergency services, but completely silent, then lets his eyes drift over. Luke lets out a sob and holds out his bloody, shaking hands. 

"What have you done?" Michael asks softly. "Fuck, Luke, you- fuck. Where's Calum?" 

"He's not with you?" Luke cries. 

Michael stares at him but the elevator is spinning and Luke can't see what he's doing until it's too late. He hears a gun shot and screams. It burns his lungs and echoes around the elevator, but he's focused on turning around. The woman in front of him has been shot through the phone on her chest, but she's still alive.

"No!" Luke lunges forwards. And smacks the phone away from the webbing over her chest. She wheezes and blood stains her lips as Luke presses his hands to the wound. "No, no! How could you do this? She's already hurt!"

"Yeah, we hurt her," Michael says. "Jesus Christ, I thought you were on board with this plan, Luke, we wouldn't have done it if you weren't with us. What's gotten into you?"

"These people are dying!" Luke presses against the wound even more but her body is still and he knows she's gone. He continues sobbing violently as his hands stick to the blood stained webbing. "They- I was here, I was dying, I can't- I can't let them die here!" 

"Is this an anxiety attack?" Michael asks. "You're going to have your first ever anxiety attack right now? Please, please hold it off like, twenty minutes. I will help you through it as soon as we're out of here, I promise. I love you to death and back but listen."

Luke hears the alarm blaring and pats around the woman's chest like he's still trying to save her. He's not sure how, but he needs to. 

"Luke, please," Michael crouches sown next to him and wraps a hand around his arm. "We have to get out of here, or else we'll be killed. Come on, we need to find Calum."

"You did this!" Luke yells at him. The woman is staring at the camera in the corner as the color drains from her face. 

"I'm sorry!" Michael cries. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, I just wanted to stop the phone call. Please, come on, we have to get out of the elevator."

Luke screams and kicks wildly, but Michael manages to grab him anyway and drag him out into the hallway. Luke watches the doors shut on the dead woman he has never met and feels himself sob again. Michael grabs his wrist and starts dragging him down the hall, away from the elevator while the alarm blares. A violent red light flashes against the walls in time with the alarm, only adding to Luke's dizziness. 

Michael has a cell phone to his ear, but he seems to get frustrated and shoves it away after a few moments. He turns around and grabs Luke by the shoulders to steady him. "Luke, breathe, okay?" He says very gently.

Luke has stopped sobbing but there's still tears in his eyes blurring the face in front of him so he whimpers and shakes his head.

"Listen to me, we need to find Calum," Michael tells him in what Luke's going to assume is meant to be a soothing tone. "Don't listen to the alarm, don't listen to your brain, just think. Where is Ashton? Where would Calum have gone? Please focus, we have to go."

"He's watching us," Luke replies. 

Michael stare at him blankly, so Luke raises his hand and points to the nearest security camera. It's directly above Michael's head. Michael turns to look at it before turning around quickly. 

"Fuck, okay," Michael whispers. "No, that's okay! We haven't done anything bad, Luke, that's okay! Where is he?"

"He think we have," Luke mumbles with a shaking breath. Michael's face is twisting in front of him. "I think we have. We have." 

"Please, I'm begging you," Michael tugs him into a hug and holds him as tight as possible, tightening a hand in his hair. Luke has to admit, he does automatically feel safer. "Please, Luke. Please, please focus. Where are they?"

Luke settles into the warm embrace and squeezes his eyes shut as he buries his face into Michael's chest and does his best to focus. He thinks back to his firsts ride in the elevator, thinks how long they were there, how far they walked afterwards, how many steps did he see his feet take across blue carpet. His mind slowly stops shaking as the alarm fills down to a steady buzzer and warps until it's so low pitched that Luke can barely hear it. He has no idea where the fuck Ashton is, other than the vague pain pulling at his heart, but he has a feeling he knows where Calum is.

He opens his eyes again. "Top floor. The door at the end of the hall."

The alarm starts blaring again as the red light flashes across the white walls.

Michael squeezes him tightly for a moment before releasing him. "God, fuck, okay. We're on the sixth floor, we need to go up four more."

Luke nods and let's himself be dragged to the stairwell and up four flights. When the get to the right floor, Luke feels carpet under his feet and stops abruptly. Michael is forced to stop as well, so he turns around and nods towards the door at the end of the hall. The door that seems to be shrinking as the hallway grows longer and longer. 

Luke shakes his head.

Michael turns around and levels him with a desperate look. "We get in, we get Calum, we get out, okay? I promise you, I will not let anything happen to you. I won't let anyone touch you, Luke. Nothing bad will happen to you, as long as you have me, okay? Please trust me on this."

Luke is hesitant, but he glances up and meets pretty green eyes that make him feel like a deal has been sealed, and somehow he starts nodding. Michael presses a kiss to his forehead before grabbing his hand again and pulling him down the hall. It doesn't take long enough to get there, but it somehow feels like it's been between half a second and four hours. Luke is exhausted. 

His heart is pounding as Michael places a hand on the handle. He pushes into the room and almost immediately gets shoved out of the way. Luke slams flat against the wall to the left of the door and Michael ducks down as a knife goes launching out into the hallway with a vengeance.

"It's me!" Michael yells as he puts his hands up. Luke watches the knife fly down the hallway and stick into the door about forty feet away, opposite where he's standing. He's breathing heavily and panicking as Michael stands up straight again. "It's us, dude, shit! What the hell are you doing in here?"

Luke peers around the corner to see that the majority of the computers have been thrown off of the tables in the center of the room. Calum's standing on one with a guard laying flat against it, gasping for breath with Calum's foot pressing into his throat. Calum's holding the katana above his head and swinging it dangerously.

He glances at the door and seethes, "He's not here."

"Fuck," Michael mutters as he glances at Luke. Luke notes that there's several other guards around the room in various states of disarray, mostly unarmed, save for the few blades. There's a man laying on the floor in the exact spot Luke had been only days prior. He's gasping for breath, too. Luke catches himself releasing a wheezing cough that makes his throat sting even more to the point that he's gagging.

He's vaguely aware of Michael reaching for him and Calum screaming as he stumbles into the room with tunnel vision, all focused on the sandy brunette man laying on the blue carpet. Luke trips over and falls to his knees next to him. There's a cut gushing blood just under his eye and a gash opened on his arm that he's holding tightly in his opposite hand, but he seems otherwise unharmed. Visibly, at least. His labored breathing and the blood splattered on his chin says otherwise. 

Luke reaches forward with tears in his eyes as his vision distorts to the point that he's reaching out for himself. "I'll help you," he whispers. "You'll be okay, I'll help you. The ambulance is on its way, I'll help you-"

He gets a burning pain in his torso for his efforts. He glances down in surprise and finds the hand connected to his injured arm is holding a knife, which is now jabbed into Luke's stomach, just below his ribs. Luke cuts off and stares down in shock before looking up again and catching blue eyes rippling onto brown. A small nose is morphing into a crooked one, then back again, as Luke's mouth drops open. 

The knife twists and he gasps as he slumps forward and allows the pain to pulse through his body. The man rips the knife back out and Luke's arms give out as the familiar feeling of pain Flowers out from his ribs. He twists as he goes down, so he lands on his back, in the exact same spot he'd been earlier. Luke places his hand on the wound loosely and feels the blood pulsing out of it and leaking into his hoodie in time with his heart beat. 

The world is moving slowly. He watches Calum scream and scream as Michael tries in vain to calm him down, before the katana in Calum's hands is brought down hard into the mans chest. Calum rips it out and stabs him three more times before setting his rage on a woman across the room with fear in her eyes. 

"Where is he?!" Calum screams. She stutters and shakes he head, and Calum swings the blade wildly. Her head flies a few feet and rolls to a stop across the room, eyes up, mouth open. Luke feels tears falling down his face and severe grief rise in his chest. He cries softly for the woman and the man on the table and the person dying right next to him. 

He glances up and catches sight of the man who is not blonde in the slightest, but rather has black hair. He looks at Luke sobbing for a full second before he whispers, "Warehouse."

"Warehouse," Luke echoes under his breath. He looks towards the window and then repeats, "Warehouse. He's- he's in the-"

Luke's body is suddenly engulfed in flames. He scrambles back from the man to make sure he doesn't light anyone on fire. The wound on his stomach stitches up quickly, so Luke scrambles to sit up as his shirt burns off. Calum is in the process of shoving the katana into a mans chest slowly and painfully, so Luke starts screaming.

"Stop!" He yells. "Stop, Calum! I know where he is!" 

Calum makes no indication that he hears him. Michael reaches forward and grabs his shoulder, only for Calum to rip the sword out of his latest victim and swing it wildly to slice off Michael's hand. Michael stares down at his new stump gushing blood with a blank expression. 

"Oh, that does kind of suck," he admits. 

Luke huffs as he stumbles around and sits up. He points to Calum and says, "You have to stop him. I know where he is." 

"On it," Michael grabs Calum's shoulder with his remaining hand and gets that one cut off, too. "Oh, god damn it. Alright, this is going to take me a minute. Go get 'em, tiger."

Luke stares at his fresh husband in horror as he waves a bloody wrist at him encouragingly. Luke grabs the backpack he had taken off sometime while rushing across the room and tosses it over, then sets a desk on fire on accident. Michael sighs, but Luke is on a mission, now. 

Luke starts running. He doesn't stop when he reaches the end up the room, and crashes through the window as a result. He grabs the rocket launcher on his shoulder and flings it as he goes hurtling towards the warehouse like a loose meteorite, still on fire, still burning. He free falls for what feels like hours before curling into a ball and smashing straight through the roof of the warehouse. 

Pain sparks on all over his body, but cracks to life when he lands in the concrete floor, turning a portion of it into rubble as he lands. He skids to a stop and lays there for a moment, trying the breath and stay burning at the same time, grimacing in pain as his bones fuse back together and his brain unblends. Luke waits for a solid minute before sticking his hand up and allowing his flame to go out. A hand grabs his instantly and pulls him out of the hole he's made in the floor. 

As soon as Luke's on his feet, he lunches forward and wraps his arms around Ashton's neck to let out a sob. Ashton hugs him back tightly, but seems to be refusing to cry. 

"I thought you were going to die," Luke sobs into his ear. "Fuck, you're okay."

"I'm mad," Ashton replies bitterly. "Not- not at you, you're okay, but I'm mad. Take me home."

"Okay," Luke nods. He pulls back and looks around. All the doors are open. Ashton looks like a bag of bones with thin, pale skin stretched over it. He's holding a cracked iPad in his hands with the view of the office displayed on it. Luke stares at it in silence as he watches Michael throw his backpack onto the burning table and run. Several guards are still in the room, some alive and moving, until fire bursts into the room and cracks the camera. Ashton drops the iPad while Luke slaps a hand over his mouth. 

"Take me home," Ashton repeats. "I don't want to see them. Take me home." 

Luke nods and starts running, trusting Ashton to follow him. They get to the parking lot and Luke soends thirty seconds smashing the drivers side window of the nearest car, then another thirty hot wiring it. Ashton catches up and climbs into the passenger seat just as the car starts. 

Luke shifts the car into drive, but when he glances back up again, Spider-Man is standing in the light of the street light, directly in front of them. He's covered in blood and holding his singular katana in his hands, high above his head like he's about to smash it down on the cars hood, while red lights flash ominously behind him. Luke screams. Ashton screams. 

"Go!" Ashton demands. 

Luke pushes his foot against the gas pedal until it hits the floor, tires squealing. The car lurches forward before Calum has the chance to react and he's tossed over the roof with a few sick sounding thuds as he goes. 

Luke swerves our of the parking lot and down the street before anyone else can stop him, vaguely aware of Calum's body hitting the ground behind them.


	25. Body and Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from king of my heart by t Swift

Luke wakes up.

He's vaguely aware of the deep sleep that he'd previously been in, only partially thinking that his mind had been somehow both dark and firing with pictures only seconds before his conscious was reawakened. He breathes in sharply through his nose and opens his eyes. They're crusty in the way they are in the mornings and heavy like he's been asleep for days. 

The first thing he notices is that he's warm. He's warm and there's sunlight streaming on him. He immediately thinks Michael's left the curtains open and the sun is pouring onto their bed. His body aches as he realizes he's sitting in his car, not in his bed. He's holding the keys tightly in his hands and slouching against the drivers side window. He glances around and notices that he's pulled over on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, with only a long stretch of road in front of him and open fields of grass around him. 

Ashton's in the passenger seat, leaning against his own window with his eyes open, staring blankly into the fields. He looks fucking exhausted and scrawny and all around unhealthy. 

Luke blinks and reaches up to rub the sleep from his eyes. He shifts around and tries his best to stretch his neck, but the ache remains. He glances over, but Ashton only remains staring out the window. 

"What the fuck are we doing?" Luke mutters. "What- why are we here?"

He's aware of what had happened the night previous, but his brain is trying to block it out. He shakes his head and then rubs at his temple forcefully. Ashton still hasn't moved. Luke sighs and reaches around to start the car. The engine chokes off twice before he gives up.

"We're out of gas, is that it?" Luke asks. "We stopped because we were out of gas? Jesus Christ, right now? Of all the fucking times? God, I- I don't even want to think about this fucking car."

Last night feels like a blur. Almost sleepy and slow in his mind, but the color red is incredibly vivid amongst the empty black spaces his memory had forgotten. Luke squeezes his eyes shut before popping them open again to look at Ashton. He's not sure what had happened last night, or if anything in his head was actually real, but it's the only way to explain why Ashton's here. 

"You're really not going to say anything to me?" Luke huffs. "I jumped out of a ten story building for you, and you can't even tell me what's going on?" 

"He's dead, idiot," a voice says from behind him. Luke jumps about a foot in the air and scrambles to grab ahold of the steering wheel, like that'll help him in the situation. He spins around and notices Ashton's also lounging in the backseat, directly behind the Ashton in the passenger seat. Who is looking surprisingly dead. 

Luke looks to the back, then back to Ashton in the front seat. He hasn't moved an inch since Luke's awoken. Upon further inspection, he finds that Ashton's hand is wrapped around his own torso and his hoodie is stained with blood. Luke immediately looks back up to his face and slaps and hand over his own mouth. 

"No," Luke replies. "No, he- he can't be dead, I just got him back!" 

"Dead," Ashton kicks the back of the passenger seat and his own body in the front jerks, but doesn't move otherwise. "Dead as shit. And you know what? You fucking killed him."

"What?" Luke turns to inspect him more closely. He looks just like Ashton, only less starved and more pissed off. "No, I didn't. I couldn't have."

"You fucking did it," Ashton spits out. 

Luke glances down all of a sudden and sees a bloody knife in his hand. That wasn't there before. It couldn't have been. He'd just taken his hands off the steering wheel, it couldn't have been there. He drops it immediately and watches it fall to the dirty floor of the car. His hands have blood splattered all over them. 

"No," Luke repeats. "No, I- I got him out of the warehouse, we took a car, we started driving, I- I-"

"You what?" Ashton asks. "You killed Calum with this car, why wouldn't you kill Ashton in it?"

"I didn't kill either of them!" Luke shouts. "Calum's fine! If he's not, he deserved what he got, but he's not dead! He can't be!"

"You hit him with your car at 60 miles per hour," Ashton reminds him. "He flew over the entire fucking thing, no one survives that shit."

"I jumped out of a ten story building and I'm fine!" Luke retaliates. 

Ashton turns his head and looks him dead in the eye and it feels like the air has been sucked out of the entire universe. "Are you?" 

Luke's hands are covered in blood and shaking. 

Luke wakes up. 

He's warm again from the sun and he's more comfortable this time. He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls blankets that smell like home close to his face. 

No one survives that. 

How did he?

Luke opens his eyes and glances around. He's horizontal this time, buried in a pile of blankets, and staring straight ahead at a familiar brick wall with the blue curtains pulled back to reveal a broken window. There's glass shards all over the floor. Luke knows the pattern they're in, he's already cleaned this mess up weeks ago. 

The bed creaks and his entire body stiffens up. Michael sighs heavily and grunts out, "You didn't close the fucking curtains."

Luke sits straight up and scrambles to get away from him while keeping the blankets wrapped around his body. He kicks out and pushes up until he's shoved into the top left corner of the bed, staring down at Michael with his mouth dropped open. He knows this day. 

"Ashton," he says softly. 

Michael sighs. "Ugh, not you, too. I know Ashton got kidnapped last night, let's just give it a few days. He'll be back or he'll die, let's just wait." 

"No," Luke says immediately. "No, he won't be back. What is this? What's the date?"

"Why the fuck would I know that?" Michael asks. He opens one eye and peers up suspiciously. "Are you having a Groundhogs Day situation? Do we have to break you out of your own little hell?" 

"I don't know," Luke admits. Michael sighs again as he apparently realizes he's not about to fall back asleep. He sits up and grabs his phone off the nightstand, then tosses it over while he rips his face. Luke unlocks it and stares at the date at the top of the small screen. "It's May 12th. Ashton just got kidnapped. We have a second chance. Is this real?"

"Bud, I don't know," Michael admits. "It's too early for me to play along. Give me, like, an hour and I'll play into whatever weird shit you want me to." 

"Is this real?" Luke demands. "You have to tell me right now, is this real? Am I dreaming?"

"When are you not?" Michael asks. Luke looks up at him and notices he's already staring back with a terrible blank, emotionless face. "What is reality, Luke? Is that your name? What is reality? What have you dreamt?"

"I don't know!" Luke's starting to panic. "I don't know! You have to tell me, please! Please, please, just tell me! What have I dreamt up?"

"You know I can't tell you that," Michael replies. "You know the answer is everything."

"No!" Luke screams. 

Luke wakes up. 

He's not warm this time. Nothing is. His body is cold, the surface he's laying on is cold, the air around him is cold. His eyes open quicker this time and dart around wildly. He's laying on a familiar concrete floor in the warehouse he'd been held in for weeks. The lights are all out, but there's a bit of early morning, purple colored dawn leaking in through the big window. All of the doors are closed. Every single one of them.

Luke stumbles around until he can stand up and spin in a circle to make sure he's seeing this correctly. He sprints over to the kitchen door and tries the handle, but it's locked. He shakes it, then kicks it when it doesn't move. He checks the bedroom door next, then the bathroom and the lab, but none of them are budging. Luke looks around again.

"Ashton?" He calls tentatively. "Ashton?"

No one answers. Luke spins around a few more times and surveys the entire room, but doesn't see a single other person in the room. Luke bolts back over to the bedroom door and pounds on it like Ashton's going to be inside, hear him, and open up.

"Ashton!" Luke cries again. "Ashton, please! You can't leave me here alone to die! I can't be alone here!" He slams on the door a few more times with the palms of his hands, but it doesn't budge. 

Luke huffs and turns around, but stops short when he sees a difference in the floor. In the direct center, there's a deep hole carved into the concrete, about the size of his body and spilling rubble over the sides. Luke walks over nervously, but the hole is empty. He glances up and notices a matching hole in the ceiling. There's scorch marks on the ground. 

Ashton's voice comes back to him immediately.

No one survives that. 

Luke screams and runs back over to the bedroom door. He pounds on it, and shakes the handle until his knuckles start to bleed and his palms turn purple with bruises. Ashton doesn't answer. Luke is really alone in the warehouse. 

He yells and yells, but no one comes to his aide. He turns back slowly to face the hole in the ground and leans back against the door with his hands flat on the cold, smooth side of it. The hole stays silent and unmoving in the ground, almost taunting him. 

No one survives that.

Luke wakes up. 

He grabs his head instantly at the buzzing, pounding pain that's been growing since he'd first noticed two Ashton's in a car he'd stolen. The first things he hears is sloshing. His body feels weighed down and... wet.

He opens his eyes and realizes he's in a tub filled with lukewarm water, turned slightly red by the immistakable metallic smell of blood. He checks himself quickly and finds he's not bleeding, so he's not sure where the blood is coming from. He recognizes the bathroom in the warehouse instantly. The tile floors are stained with bloody red footprints, leading directly up to the tub. There's a bloody handprint on the side of the porcelain. 

Luke pulls his hand off of his own head and stares at it. His fingers are shaking and there's blood caked under his nails. 

"This isn't real," he says outloud. "This isn't fucking real. This is- this is a dream." 

There's a weird sort of tugging in his spine that reminds him of the feeling that comes from being pulled apart down to the molecule and shot through a wormhole into another dimension. He shakes his head and drops his hand back down into the water with a splash. 

"Get up," he mutters to himself. "Get up, Luke, you have to get up and wake up and get the fuck out of here."

Luke stands up in the tub, water as loud as can be, then carefully steps out and drips on the tile floors, making the bloody footprints spiderweb and spread in water droplets. He turns and reaches for a towel off the rack to his left, but pauses when he sees something in the corner of his eye. Before he has the chance to react, something comes down hard across his ribs and knocks the wind out of him. Luke wheezes as he falls back onto his ass with a hand coming up to block any further blows. Pain Flowers out from the spot where he'd been hit instantly. 

Luke looks up and finds a guard in front of him, dressed in all black with his typical bullet proof vest and helmet, holding tightly to a baton. The only difference is that there's a clown mask covering his face. Luke holds his hand out in front of him.

"This isn't real! You can't hit me, I'm dreaming!" He cries. 

The guard wordlessly pulls his baton back and then swings forward and hits Luke's arm with all his might. Luke screams as he hears and feels the pulsing hot pain of breaking bones. He pulls his hand down and cradles it against his chest, but doesn't dare look at it. He looks up with tears in his eyes and whimpers. 

"You can't do this, none of this is real," Luke whispers. "I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming. I need to wake up."

"No one survives that," the guard says in a gruff voice. "You're in hell, you didn't survive anything. There's only one way out and I think you know it."

Luke doesn't fucking know it's. He pulls the baton back and sways it around behind him for a moment before swinging it towards Luke's head with all his power. 

Luke wakes up.

He's standing this time, in the hallway with blue carpeting on the top floor of the building, with bare feet and only his fire retardant pants on. The air smells hot. The red light is flashing along the wall, but the alarm isn't blaring anymore. There's several doors on both the right and the left, but they're all dark and silent. Meanwhile, the door at the end of the hall has a flashing light coming from the sliver underneath it. 

Luke immediately looks at his hands. Neither are broken, neither are covered in blood. 

He turns around, but the door to the stairwell is completely gone, with only a knife sticking out of the empty wall. Luke stares at it, it's eye level. 

He turns slowly again and looks down the hall at the door opposite him. It's clear which door he's supposed to go to. He turns back around and grabs the knife by the handle and pulls and pulls, but it doesn't budge. He sets his foot on the bare wall and shoves against it as he pulls harder, but his efforts are in vain. It stays stuck in the drywall. 

Luke backs up a step and kicks the drywall with his heel once, then once more for good luck. It doesn't crack in the slightest. Luke huffs and turns back around. The light coming from the sliver under the door at the end of the hall is flashing and full, like watching a fire from behind closed eyelids. 

Luke sighs and takes one step forward. Instantly, the door is jerked back about two feet as the hallway elongates, and it tilts to the left a few degrees. Stopping abruptly, Luke tilts his head to look at the door headon. He takes a step back and the door shifts closer again and stands straight up and down. 

Luke takes a step forward. The door takes two steps back.

No one survives that.

Luke takes another step and the same thing happens, the door shifts backward and tilts even more. He's close enough to the first door by now that he can reach forward and grasp the door handle in Both hands. It turns easily, so Luke swings it open and is met with more drywall and absolutely nothing else. Luke slams the door shut again, but it makes no sound. Nothing is making any sound. 

"Hello?" Luke says nervously. Like he's proving he still has a voice. He does, luckily. 

"Hello!" A voice answers from down the hall. 

Luke stares at the door opposite him, but cannot find the courage to answer the unfamiliar voice. Instead, he mutters out, "Oh, hell no," and turns around again. Except he smacks directly into the wall, right next to the knife stuck in it. How did it get so close? Luke had just been two steps away from it, and now he's nose to nose with the chipping tan paint. 

He turns around slowly and realizes the door is still tilted. 

Luke looks down and stretches his leg out as long as it'll go before setting it down and letting his left leg jump up to join it. The entire hallway twists completely on its side. The gravity of the sudden twist throws Luke into the wall like he's landing on the floor, knocking the breath from his lungs. He huffs and stands up while brushing himself off. Luke's facing the door sideways, so he tilts his head in an attempt to look at it straight on. 

"This is a fucking nightmare," he admits softly. 

"I could make it worse!" The same, cheery voice says from before.

"Um," Luke glances around nervously, but finds there no one around him. The wall is pressed right against his shoulder, again. "Oh, no thank you. I'll figure it out."

"Doubtful!" The voice replies. "Why don't you come on in and we can talk about it?"

Luke glances around slowly. He's made it past the first door, but it looks like two more have appeared at the end of the hallway. He frowns and looks for a different escape, but there absolutely none. There's nothing, no windows, no working doors, he has no weapons on him, there's no way out. Except straight ahead. 

"Um, okay," Luke says slowly. He takes a step forward. The entire hallway shifts and he stumbles, but he keeps going. He takes step after step, watching the hallway grow and produce more doors and shift until he's walking on the ceiling, then the opposite wall, then the floor, then the first wall again. 

The only experience he's had similar to this one was at the end of a haunted house, where there had been a long stretch of tubing with a ramp in it. He'd had to walk across it, while the tube spun and broadcasted swirling stars that made him feel as if his whole world was twisting. He'd had a bar to hold onto there. Here, he has nothing, so he moves faster. He runs and runs as the hallway grows and twists rapidly, dodging door jams and tripping over the little boxes broadcasting the flashing red light. 

He starts crying because it's getting frustrating. He can't reach the end, no matter how fast he sprints. It's like he's running in place, but he knows he's not as he moves past doors and feels wind rushing against his face. He sobs as the hallway gets longer and twists even more than before. He's running on the ceiling and the hallway in front of him is twisted twice over, leaving the door right side up, but upside down for Luke. 

This can't be real, he thinks. There's no way this is real. But he can fee the tears on his cheeks and the pain rising in his chest, and he's desperate to wake up. He needs to wake up. He needs to get out of here. He keeps running, because that's the only way out. He can deal with whatever's in the room when he gets there, just as long as there's a hope of getting out. 

Luke keeps sprinting until the hallway in front of him is twisted seven times over and over. And he doesn't stop on his own accord. Something grabs his shoulders and yanks. Luke glances down, but there's nothing there as he's pulled to a stumbling stop. He shakes and twists, but he can't seem to escape the tight grip. Luke pushes forward against the flat force on his shoulders, but he can't seem to move. 

All of a sudden, he's jerked back. He tries to keep up, walking backwards and then running, but the force is too fast and he ends up just hanging there, letting his heels slam against the lights and door handles. Luke screams as he's ripped backwards and starts thrashing wildly, but the force doesn't stop or slow down. The hallway in front of him twists and spins rapidly, shifting almost violently as doors start disappearing and the flashing light under the most important door grows quicker and quicker until it's solid. 

Luke squeezes his eyes shut and kicks wildly but, almost as quickly as it had started, everything stops. The force disappears and Luke is dropped onto the blue carpeting at the end of the hall with a muffled thump. He huffs and sniffs, wiping the back of his wrist under his eyes and his nose. The hallway looks completely normal, except the light at the end is solid and not flickering. The red flashing light is still flashing against the walls silently. 

Luke coughs a few times until he starts gagging and has to stop. He buries his face in his hands and rubs his eyes, but refuses to move otherwise. Why should he? Where would he go? He stays there for what feels like hours before he decides to stand up again. The knife in the wall is eye level still, but the drywall around it is chipping. Luke reaches up and grabs the handle. He moves it up and down a few times before he pulls it out of the wall and can hold it in his hand. He stares down at it and instantly recognizes it as one Michael had picked up from the dollar store in bulk. 

Luke holds it out in front of him nervously and turns around. He takes one step forward. Nothing happens. This has to be a trick, he thinks. It has to be. He takes another step forward. The hallway doesn't move an inch. He reaches towards the handle on the door to his left, but it's locked. He gives up shaking it and takes another careful step. He approaches the door at the end of the hall cautiously, one step at a time, in case moving any faster triggers some sort of illusion again. He holds his knife out in shaking hands, heart pounding and tears drying on his face, but nothing happens. 

He reaches the door. Holding the knife in his right hand, he reaches forward slowly and twists the handle. It goes easily, so he pushes the door in and glances inside. Calum is sitting on one of the many tables, swinging his feet off the side of it, and looking around almost cheerfully. 

He glances over when the door opens and waves happily. "Hey, Luke! Nice of you to join us!" Why do you have a knife?"

Luke glances down at the knife, then back up at Calum. "I don't know," he admits. 

It slowly registers in his mind that Calum has said us. He glances around and finds there's exactly nine people lining the wall that the door is on. They're all tied tightly at the hands and feet, sitting against the wall, staring up at Luke. Luke stares back. He's confused at first, so he looks back to Calum. 

He's dressed in a white shirt and some black jeans and hightops, not his typical Red and blue suit. The only thing different about him is that he's holding a single katana in his lap. The sight of him holding a weapon feels wrong. 

"What are you doing?" Luke asks. 

"I have to torture you," Calum shrugs. "I thought, you know, why not make you relive a few things? Come here."

"Why?" Luke asks. 

"Come on, Luke, I don't want to do this either," Calum nods his head, so Luke approaches cautiously. He's still holding the knife in his right hand, just in case. Calum holds a hand out.

"You can't hurt me," Luke tells him. "This isn't real. I'm dreaming. I keep waking up."

"You're dreaming?" Calum looks up in surprise. He looks completely normal. He looks soft and sweet and gentle and Luke wants so badly to trust him. "You- you jumped out of a ten story building and you think you're dreaming? No one-"

"No one survives that," Luke finishes. "I know, but I did. I had to have, I'm just- I'm dreaming."

"No one survives that," Calum agrees. "Can I see your hand?"

"You can't hurt me," Luke repeats. He reaches forward anyway and tentatively places his hand into Calum's. 

"You're kind of stupid," Calum says. He grabs Luke's pointer finger, the same one a guard had broken in this very room, and twists it violently. Luke hears the bones crack and intense, pulsing pain make his finger swell almost instantly. He rips away as he cries out, then cradles his hand against his chest. 

"Why would you do that?" Luke demands as he points the knife at Calum. He's shaking, and the pain doesn't help, so Calum merely snorts in amusement. 

"It's my job, dipshit," Calum shrugs. He grabs the katana and hops off the table so he's eye level with Luke. Luke is desperate to trust him and ask him how to get out, but he knows he can't. He knows this isn't Calum. Calum nods his head towards the corner behind Luke. "Take your seat." 

The spot that Luke has almost died in twice is open. There's six people to the left of the spot and three to the right. They've been completely silent through the entire ordeal. Luke turns back around and shakes his head. The cool metal of the katana is pressed to his throat almost instantly. Luke backs up and turns back around to walk over to his spot. There's a very obvious blood stain on the floor. 

He sits down and leans against the wall obediently, still cradling his hand against his chest. When he looks down at it, it looks completely fine. Luke bends all of his fingers a few times, but doesn't register any pain. Luke grabs the knife with both hands again and holds it out in front of him. 

"Care to spar?" Calum holds out the four foot long katana.

"I don't want to," Luke admits. He leaves it open ended and they both know he'll try his best to get in at least one move before he lets himself be killed. Calum shrugs and sets the blade on his shoulder. He marches over to the first person in the line, six away from Luke, and bends down to inspect their face. No one else dares move, but Luke leans out of line and watches carefully. 

"Hello, I'm Calum, who are you?" Calum asks. 

The girl in front of him is small and shaking she's wearing normal clothes and she has ink on her hands. Luke realizes that there's no way she's a guard. She has a small frame and thin looking skin. Tears are filling her eyes. She doesn't answer. 

Calum taps the top of her head with the katana twice. "Hello? Does this thing work?"

"I'm Marie," she whispers. Luke barely hears her. 

"Hello, Marie!" Calum enthuses as he stands straight up and rests the katana over his shoulder again. "Tell me a bit about yourself."

"I-I'm 19, I'm going to university to study psychology, I- I- I have a dog," she stutters a few times, but Calum seems enthralled by the fun facts. "I don't- I don't know what you want, pl- please just tell me what, I don't-"

"Alright, you're boring," Calum rearranges the katana and shoves it directly through her chest and into the wall. She gasps and cries out softly, then eventually slumps over. Calum rips out the blade and scoffs at the blood covering it. He huffs and moves on to repeat his first statement to the man that's next in line. 

Luke looks down at his small knife. 

He looks at the person directly to his left. She's older and shaking, looking suspiciously like Luke's mother. Or any mother, for that matter. 

Luke glances back down as his mind starts running again. He tries desperately to light himself on fire, but the flame won't come and he starts crying softly. The metallic smell of blood starts to fill the air, so Luke lets out a sob that has the woman on his right shushing him. He looks back in time to see Calum swing his katana wildly and alive the second mans head off. It falls off of his neck easily and rolls to a stop at Calum's feet, so he steps over it and moves on.

"Hi, I'm Calum!" He says again.

There's something incredibly odd about the sight of Calum holding a weapon. It feels juxtaposed into the scenario, but Luke cringes as he remembers seeing it with his own eyes. That was real. His mind spins as he tries to recollect anything real and tangible, but he's coming up with nothing. 

He knows being in the car with Michael and Calum was real. He knows walking into the elevator was real. After that, he can't be positive. He'd started his mental breakdown in the elevator. Did Michael shoot a woman? Was he there? Luke thinks he did and he was, he thinks that anything leading up to him launching out of the window was real. He thinks. He can't be sure, but it feels too real to not be. 

But then again, so does this. 

Luke glances down to watch Calum bury the blade of his sword into the third mans head. He's now three people away from Luke. He moves on. 

Luke thinks the car was real. He hit Calum with his car. That had to be real, right? He'd heard the thudding of his body and the squeal of his tires. That had to be real. Waking up in a car with Ashton's dead body could have been real. Maybe seeing it was too much for his brain and he'd immediately gone into sensory overload and shut down. Maybe he'd died too. Maybe he'd killed himself. Maybe Ashton had never gotten kidnapped in the first place. Maybe Luke is in bed at home with the familiar brick walls and warm bedsheets. 

Luke stands up. Calum's too busy trying to decide where he's going to stab the woman crying in front of him, so he doesn't notice. If he does, he doesn't say anything. Luke carefully moves forward until he's standing directly behind Calum. He holds the knife high above his head and tries desperately to hype himself up. This isn't Calum. He's dreaming. He has to do this. 

Before he can move an inch, Calum spins around and looks at him with big eyes and Luke hesitates. He's a fucking idiot and he hesitates. Calum frowns and looks absolutely fucking terrified as he whispers out, "Luke?" 

And he looks too much like Calum. He sounds too much like Calum. He's too sweet and nice and gentle and Luke cannot stab Calum. He pauses with the knife still high above his head and stares at Calum's face in absolute horror for a moment. 

Calum pushes the blade of the katana straight through Luke's stomach slowly, not breaking eye contact. He snatches the knife out of Luke's hands and tosses it across the room easily while Luke slumps forward. He feels the unfamiliar pain of the sword pushing out and exiting through his back. 

Calum smiles at him and reaches forward to gently touch his cheek. "You're a fucking idiot. You couldn't kill me if you wanted to."

Luke can't move. He's forced to stare at Calum's sweet smile while his vision fades to black and his legs give out and he feels betrayed beyond belief. That hurts more than being stabbed. The grief he feels rise in his chest is the worst feeling he's ever had in his life. 

Luke wakes up.


End file.
